Coffee (Rebrewed)
by JT Gabert
Summary: In order to live in the present, it's necessary to revisit the past.
1. Chapter 1

_How do you come back to life after almost dying?_

 **CHAPTER 1 A GIRL WALKS INTO A COFFEEHOUSE**

It was my routine ever since I went on medical leave. I woke exhausted after another night tormented by nightmares, meditated to calm myself, forced my body through a full series of asanas and exercises designed to help me move again, showered, pulled on clean jeans, a t shirt, and a blazer, grabbed my backpack full of art supplies and slowly walked from my place to Phil'z Coffee, on a bright early summer morning, for a cup of what had been described, and proven, as the sign over the door proclaimed, ' **San Francisco's Best Handmade Coffee** '.

 _Phil'z_ is a San Francisco institution, occupying the corner of 24th and Folsom taking up a three- story brick building designed to tightly hug the corner like a ship's prow. In addition to the banner brag over the door, there was another one hanging down under the signboard next to the bus stop. Recently, Phil's son, Jacob, upgraded the place, adding live music on evenings and weekends, painting the outside trim a bright green, making the ceiling to floor windows look even larger, put some thrift shop tables, chairs, and potted plants outside, and hung local artwork on the bare brick inside walls, selling it for the artists when he could. The coffee was now roasted and ground in house, drenching the place in a heavy perfume of Arabica, Sumatran, Columbian, and other exotic coffee countries, but Jake had left "it" alone, "it" being, his dad's recipes for coffees.

When I was a kid, we came every week after Mass, for coffee, pastries, and gossip, before going home for dinner. My father preferred a thick, square, highball glass of Irish whiskey with a cold Weinhard's long neck, while watching the game over at the Napper Tandy down the street, but on Sunday's, he dutifully made the walk to _Phil'z_ with us from St Peter's. Conversation would fly fast and furious in English and Spanish, becoming louder and more animated as we were joined by my mother's _Peña and_ Mu _ñ_ oz relatives. My father eventually leaving our table to stand behind the counter next to his friend Phil, holding a mug of strong Irish tea, talking about the Giants or 'Niner's, depending on the season, while waiting for "Maggie", as he called mom, to let him go down to Napper's, while Phil, wearing his trademark fedora, frothed milk, and made espressos, lattes, Cappuccinos, cinnamon and chile spiked Mexican chocolates, pour overs, French presses, and teas, all the time keeping up conversations in English, and Spanish, while behind the two large glass bakery cases, his helpers selected pastries and cookies to go with the beverages. Phil was my godfather, and the only one now who called me either by birth name or nickname.

I sat in my usual spot, a table near the window and closest to the right- side wall, where the morning light was best, so I could sketch if I wanted to and pulled that morning's _Chronicle_ out of my bag _,_ beginning with the Arts section. They reviewed Mitsu Yoshikawa's photography exhibit at Gallery 4. I'd gone last week. His black and white pictures had a Zen like quality but had been taken at Stow Lake at Golden Gate Park in the middle of a glorious late autumn Saturday a year earlier. I met him first photographing Coit Tower. He told me how children were fascinated by his Hasselblad V camera that day in the park. He let them take pictures, carefully writing their names and addresses in a notebook. When the exhibit opened, he invited them to attend. To their surprise, their pictures had been mounted as part of the exhibit he called, _The Future_. He became a mentor, providing me with an introduction to the San Francisco art scene and letting me try my own luck with the Hasselblad from time to time. As I read, happy that the _Chronicle_ agreed with my assessment of the exhibit; I smelled coffee at the table.

"One Mocha Tesoro Grande, with cardamom, extra sugar, and a chocolate croissant for the lady". Phil announced as he set down on the table unbidden, the white stoneware plate and cup he gave his regulars. "You're late this morning _Paquita_. You feelin' ok?"

I smiled. "Good morning to you too, _padrino_. I'm fine, really. I didn't get much sleep is all. Stayed up too late."

"Uh huh. So," he continued, after sitting down opposite me. "Maria Francesca. What's on your agenda for today?"

"Nothing in particular; some sketching, maybe a walk? Why are you so interested?"

"You have a lot of nothing in particulars recently. Next time the Chief comes in for coffee, he and I are gonna chat about your nothing's."

"He doesn't have any control over my nothing's. I'm on medical leave, remember."

"When do you go back to the doctor?"

"Not soon enough for you, it seems. I thought you liked having me here, especially when you're short staffed."

"You're a damned good cop and you need to be doing that again. What would your pop think about this an' those guys you work with? Mark and Ed, they're your partners, your friends, I thought."

I said nothing. I could feel the sadness I constantly held deep down inside trying to rise. I didn't want Phil or anyone else to know I didn't trust myself after almost being killed three months ago. If I didn't trust myself, how could I have the backs of my partners?

Phil got up and walked back behind the counter. "So, you can work for Dina this afternoon, right? She called in a half hour ago. Kid's got the crap"

"No problem; I can cover".

"By the way, someone's been looking for you".

"Me? Who? Why? They say anything?"

"A lady. Really classy. A snob hiller type, but nice. She was in coupla days ago an' then yesterday afternoon, when you weren't here. Checked out your stuff on the wall. I think she might want to buy some. I told her you might be in today."

"Hey Phil!" a customer shouted. "Whaddabout my double espresso?"

"Hold on buddy. The sign says one cup at a time, and it's not time for yours yet. If Ironside calls me, Fran, I'm gonna tell him you wanna go back to work." He got up and walked back to the counter.

"He'll know you're lying." I replied.

I finished reading the section while eating the croissant, licking buttery flakes off my fingertips. My mother always hated that, my licking my fingertips after eating something like a croissant.

" _Mija_ , _una verdadera dama no se comportaría de esa manera."_

A real lady wouldneve _r_ do that, she told me repeatedly, about any number of things, especially after I got into fights with the neighborhood boys. I was a tomboy, my dad's kid, I'd tell her, but being both Mexican and American, I was an outsider, an _Oreo,_ dark on the outside, white inside. Our family wasn't like the others in the Mission neighborhood. Papi' was police. Mamita taught English at Mission Dolores High School. " _No podía_ _ayudarme_." _I couldn't help myself,_ I'd reply.

Her response was always the same, to hug me tightly and whisper, "Se hicieron dificultades que hay que superar." Difficulties were made to be overcome.

Only Father Ben at St Peter's knew why I fought. I fought to uphold my family's honor; avenge the names and lies that neighborhood kids tossed around so callously about my parents and me. Each week in Confession, I told him all of that and more. I must have said thousands of 'Our Father's' and 'Hail Mary's' in my life. Absently I brushed the remnants of pastry flakes off my jeans while thinking about that, and what I'd told, rather what I didn't tell, my godfather. I still had four months of medical leave left and I wasn't sure if I wanted to go back. If I were to leave the Department, I wasn't sure what I'd do next. What would my mother be telling me now if she were still alive? Most likely the same comment. Difficulties were made to be overcome. I wasn't sure if these difficulties could be overcome. I let my mind wander to the other comment Phil had made. Someone was looking for me. Who and why? I sipped coffee and thought about it more.

' _Let it go_ ' I told myself. I opened my book and began a sketch of the coffeehouse interior complete with the grumpy double espresso guy. Maybe I could go into cartooning.

As the sketch took shape. I smelled a very expensive perfume, Klein, Chanel maybe. Looking up, I saw a woman walking towards me. From her scent to her makeup and clothes, everything about her said money. I knew who she was even before she spoke. She'd let her hair grow longer; it was darker too, a more natural blonde, no longer the glacial white it had once been. She'd aged a few years, but it was her eyes that gave her away. The same intense shade of blue with an equally piercing, direct look, just like in all the pictures I'd seen in the office of the Chief, Mark, Ed, and her. Extending a manicured hand, she spoke, her voice honeyed.

"Hello, I'm Eve Dwyer. I've wanted to meet you for quite some time. May I buy you a coffee?


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2 SISTERS ARE DOIN' IT FOR THEMSELVES**

Eve Dwyer sat down across from me without invitation. Phil scooted over promptly to the table.

"Paquita, this is the lady I told you about." He beamed at Eve. "What can I get you?"

She waved a hand to ward off the offer. "Oh, no, please, I can wait in line."

Phil would hear none of it. He pressed her into giving him her order, bringing it back in record time with a small plate of pastries, as well as a refill for me.

"You ladies need anything, you just ask".

She beamed a megavoltage smile at Phil before he moved back to the counter. "Paquita?" she gave me a small friendly laugh. "I'm betting the nuns at Mission Dolores never called you that."

I ignored her comment. "Look, Phil thinks you're looking to buy some artwork from me. He doesn't know who you are. He thinks you're just some rich matron from Nob Hill who goes slumming, finding artists here in Mission to dangle the possibility of buying art from, mostly to amuse themselves and their friends with."

"Fran, I am a rich matron from Nob Hill. I can buy art from Mission Artists for my own appreciation. I saw several of yours yesterday. You're very good. I think I might like to buy one or two from you before I leave, if the price is right. Unlike my friends, I _don't_ buy for amusement, though I could, if I wanted to." She sipped her coffee carefully. "But, that's not me, and what you really want to know is why I'm here."

Damn certain I wanted to know why Eve Dwyer was in town and asking for me. She was the unspoken ghost in the room the first year I worked for Ironside. The internal question, "What would Eve Whitfield do? "caused me to second guess myself almost every time I went out on a case. I finally stopped asking it during the second year. Now, my question was, "Will Fran Belding ever be a cop again?"

"Ed asked me to come and talk with you. He and I have stayed good friends". She replied without waiting. She took a long swallow of coffee and motioned to Phil who immediately trotted over. "Phil, could we have a couple of go cups and a bag for these? It's such a gorgeous day. Fran and I are going to enjoy it out walking. Denver is better designed for biking and climbing; not walking. I really miss that."

He brought us a bag and two filled Styrofoam cups, telling me he'd make Robbie cover for Dina and refused to take payment from Eve. As I left, he took my backpack, making sure I had my keys and wallet.

"Something tells me you're not gonna be needing this today, _Paquita_ _._ It'll be in the office tomorrow."

A short walk took us to one of the many small city parks. We sat down at a table, took off the coffee lids, sipped and nibbled.

"I miss the bay and the ocean so much."

I could hear the sadness in her voice.

"There's something about the colors, the smell. It gets into your soul. It's probably in our DNA. Denver is very different. There's no ocean. But I'm getting to appreciate the mountains more."

"Why did Ed send for you?"

"You're his partner. He cares about you."

"He knows how to get hold of me."

"You don't answer."

That was true. He called, sent notes and tried to visit every week. Mark too. What could I say to them? " _Hi, glad you're doing so well. I'm down so low; I don't know what up looks like?_ " I wanted them to see me as competent and strong, not damaged.

"So, _before_ he stages a police raid on your apartment, he thought you might like to talk to someone who's been where you are." She gave me a direct look, making me feel like a butterfly pinned to a collection board. I couldn't escape it. "Apparently since you don't seem to want Ed's Mark's, or the Chief's help, Ed thought I might be able to reach you."

I wracked my brain. Eve hurt? When had this happened? The guys never mentioned anything about it.

She anticipated my question. "It took place, oh, almost eight years ago. I made a huge mistake, I let the guy get me off balance and next thing I know, I'm waking up in a hospital recovery room after surgery to remove a bullet".

I nodded. Glenville had gotten me off balance too.

"I didn't know if I wanted to be a cop after that."

I didn't know either. "How did you get past it?"

"Ed, Mark, the Chief, Sam, for starters. My own family wasn't a great deal of help. They never wanted me to be a police officer in the first place. It wasn't seemly for one in my social class to work _._ They hoped I'd give it up after that, my mother especially."

"How did you decide to become a cop?" I asked.

"The Chief," came her quick reply. "He made me realize I could do something more than attend fundraisers for the Police Benevolent Association."

"I grew up watching dad doing things that helped people, not hurt them. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a nun. I wanted to keep my father and others safe from all the hate in the world, all the hate I'd experienced as a child, by teaching love. But I realized I needed to be out in the world." I said softly. "When he was murdered, he was trying to do just that, help someone."

"Where were you when that happened?"

"In the Castro, watching parking meters. After the funeral, it seemed that the entire Police Department thought my dad was dirty, including the Chief. I decided to find my father's killer on my off time. Thinking I didn't have the Chief's support was hard for me because he and dad were poker buddies. He knew mamita; he watched me grow up. He wrote a recommendation letter for me to get into the Academy, I didn't even ask for that. He knew my father wouldn't shake down anyone. When he didn't start investigating immediately, I was devastated. I felt totally alone."

"What did you do?"

"I picked up a gambler named Charlie Rhine. I heard he had connections to the floating casinos in town. He worked for Joe Julian, one of Eddie Rogers' lieutenants."

Eve nodded. She knew who Eddie Rogers was.

Julian was ambitious and figured he could take over Rogers's crew and be the new mob boss. My father and I were just bait. "Julian planned my father's murder. He created a fake bank account for dad with three hundred thousand in it. He had a mole inside Vice, so he knew when the raids on the casinos were happening and that the Chief had reinjured his neck. What I know now was that the Chief was waiting for the right moment to go after Julian and after my adventure playing Nancy Drew, as he called it, followed by his fall; the Chief set the trap. Julian believed the Chief was more concerned about his health and the angry orphan cop than he was trying to catch him. Once he found the mole in Vice, the Chief would have all the puzzle pieces needed to clear my father's name. The mole turned out to be one of Ed's friends in Vice. It hurt him to have to arrest him, but he did.

"I assume it didn't go over well with Ed."

"No, and I was glad to see Ed angry with someone other than me."

"Ed told me Julian didn't shoot your father?"

"No. It was his girlfriend, Betty Anderson. She did it because she loved Julian and wanted him to succeed. She said during the trial she'd do anything for him. She didn't even know who dad was. He was just another cop bearing down hard on her man. She told my father she had information about the floating casinos and he agreed to meet her. He got out of his car and she shot him. He never even had a chance to draw his weapon."

"So that's how you joined the Chief?"

"Pretty much, but it was more like being drafted. I went very unwillingly. I didn't impress Mark or Ed at first with my police professionalism, especially Ed. It took a long time with Ed."

Eve sighed. "It took me a long while to get through to Ed that I was serious about being a cop too. But, being drafted, that's a good way to describe it," She laughed. "It happened to me just about the same way. I'd taken a couple of years at UCSF, but really had nothing else on my mind but that week's sale or where the newest club was opening. I met the Chief when he was investigating a shooting in a club I was at with some friends. This was before he was shot. I gave a very detailed account of the shooting and the suspects to him. He asked me why I was wasting my time with the dilettantes. Two weeks later, an application to join the next academy class came in the mail with no return address. I guessed who it was from. I filled it out as a joke, but I found I liked police work and the rest is history. But it wasn't until just before the Chief was shot, that Ed finally began to accept me as his partner. Don't know if it's that Marine attitude of his, or if he was a closet sexist like most of the department was and felt I didn't belong. But he did tell me the thing that impressed him first about you, was your compassion towards Betty Anderson at the end. After you found out she murdered your dad, you asked that she be given all the time she could be given with him. Ed wasn't sure he could have behaved that way. I know I wouldn't have."

"Blame it on my Catholic upbringing I guess. I would have felt guilty forever. I didn't want her to go through what I did the night my father was killed. Not being able to say goodbye to someone you loved. It's a terrible feeling. It makes you crazy. It eats away with you. I'm still working on the forgiveness part of that, but…. "My voice trailed off.

Eve smiled again and reached out for my hand. From then on it was easy to talk to her. Our coffee grew cold and pastries uneaten as we sat and talked about cases, our families, coworkers, lovers, and in Eve's case, her husband.

"Sam's the Assistant Chief of Detectives in Denver, but you probably know that already. He's got the fire and smarts to make it to chief."

"How'd you meet?"

"At Giamatti's".

I laughed. Giamatti's was a hangout for cops. I'd met several dates there, often critiqued by my partners, who conveniently happened to be there at the time, and Ed, Mark, the Chief, and I often went there for dinner or drinks after finishing a case.

Eve motioned, and we got up disposed of our trash and walked on. She pulled out a small photo album and flipped through it, finding a picture of a smiling man with a square jaw and sandy brown hair.

"Good looking guy".

"He's worth sharing a life with, that's for sure." Eve said, with the giddy look of someone who had found the mother lode.

We walked quietly for a while longer, watching the joggers and couples.

"Ed said you were hurt badly by this creep Glenville. You don't feel you're all the way back yet, do you?"

"No", my voice sounded small, weak.

"When I was shot, I'd just met Sam. I didn't think anyone would want such a damaged, stupid, person. Especially not the mighty Robert Ironside or this great guy I'd thought of beginning a life with. When I got out of the hospital, I dropped my resignation on the Chief's desk, called Sam and dumped him over the phone. Then I moved back into my parent's house, ready to begin the life of a dissolute, spoiled heiress, now with a bullet pucker. Finita l'commedia." Her hands splayed out in the San Francisco gesture meaning anything from "whatever "to "finished" to "huh?", depending on how fast, widespread, and directional the hands moved.

"What brought you back?"

"Ed and Mark did, with a lot of love from Sam. Mark told me daily how screwed up the office was without me. Ed reminded me of all the good I had done and could continue doing, if I only came back and that the idea of my waking up each day wondering what dress I'd put on, or party I'd go to, disgusted him and I'd become quickly bored and boring and I'd hate myself. I tried it for a month just to spite them. Sam just refused to go away. He literally camped on the doorstep. One morning there was the Chief in the front room. He told me it was time to stop feeling sorry for myself and decide finally, come back to work or not, and make my choice very carefully."

"And you did."

"Yes. Two years later, I married Sam and shortly before that, he was hired in Denver".

"Do you miss it?"

"The work? I did at first, but not now. I have Sam and Suzanne in my life and she's a handful."

Flipping through her album, she found another picture of a young girl, maybe four or five years old laughing at the photographer. Blond and blue eyed like her mother and determined like her father. "She's five and a half, going on thirty- five." Eve laughed. "Grandma and grandpa have her right now. They can't get enough of her, so that means a trip back once every two months or so."

The sky had begun to darken. The work day was ending. Workers were coming out of their offices, their jackets tightened about them to ward off the cool evening breeze coming off the bay, heading off to trendy little places to drink small glasses of artisan alcohol and eat organic local grown farm to restaurant food on equally small plates at astronomical prices. Eve lead me down another side street, steering me into a small restaurant. The sign on the outside identified the place as _Colibri_. I could smell chilies, garlic, and onion, making me nostalgic for my mother's and grandmother's kitchens, Suddenly, I was hungry, but I felt underdressed, almost shabby, passing by diners in their chic business Armani and Ralph Lauren. The hostess greeted Eve like a long- lost friend, leading us to a quiet table in the back, close to the kitchen and the bar. She called over to the bartender,

"Pete, this is my friend Eve. Would you take special care of them tonight, please?"


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3 OLD FRIENDS**

From behind the bar, Pete came over and took our orders. We both ordered a short bourbon and soda. Clinking glasses, we smiled as we sipped. New friends with a lot of shared history between them, most of it unknown. But we were ready to find out as much as we could. I continued to wonder why Ed had decided she might be the only one who could get through to me.

"To Bourbon: the official drink of Team Ironside." Eve said.

"I always thought it was "Marine Coffee", I laughed.

"Oh God," Eve made a face. "Ed never could make a decent cup, no matter how hard he tried. Compared to Mark though, it was almost drinkable."

"Ed still can't though. We went to Phil'z one time and he tried to show Phil and Jake how to make it. Phil almost threw him out and tried to ban him". I told Phil he couldn't do that, I'd write him a ticket for something if he did."

We drank some more bourbon. I could feel the fire burn down my throat. I began to relax some. "So, what do you think you can do that Ed, Mark, and the Chief can't?" I finally asked.

"Ed said you could be blunt".

I laughed. "You are so tactful. Are you certain he didn't say a pain in the?"

"It's my Nob Hill upbringing", she laughed. "I'm a lady, I wouldn't, but he might have and probably did". Eve replied smoothly. She drank a bit more of her bourbon. "For starters, you are one very angry lady. I was too, after I was hurt, but not like you are. You have a thick wall of thorns growing around you. You don't want anyone coming near you. Maybe that's due to your being more severely hurt than I was or how it happened. I'm going to hazard a guess you're not dealing with it very well at all."

I was silent. Eve continued.

"Do you just think if you act tough, try to scare or push people away, people like Mark, Ed, and the Chief, that the anger will go away by itself? It doesn't work that way; you and I both know that for a fact. These guys don't scare, or let other people push them around, no matter how hard you might try to do that."

No, I hadn't forgotten how Mark, Ed and the Chief behaved when they thought they were being shoved up against a wall or not given the answers they wanted. They came out swinging. I had decided not to let them get near me, so I couldn't see them or have to, deal with that side of them.

"Fran, they want to help you, but don't know how. You won't tell them anything. You won't talk to them, won't see them. You're keeping them in the dark. They're concerned about you. They love you."

I was quiet. Pete brought fresh drinks. We'd switched to a flight of _añejo_ and _reposado_ _t_ equilas _,_ the good stuff my uncles used to bring with them on their visits north, now becoming a feature of trendy Mexican bars like _Colibri,_ along with a beer bucket filled with chilled long neck bottled beer. To anyone looking at us, we were two girlfriends, cutting loose after a hard day in the office. In effect, we were, though I doubted that any of the diners would willingly trade their corner office space or cubicles for our office space. I looked at my glass of pale gold _Tres Agaves_ , trying to find some answers within it.

"I know they think I'm self- medicating. I was, but not anymore. After the rehab center, the doctors unintentionally made sure I had enough pills to make myself numb, for a long time, maybe permanently. For a time, that was all I wanted, not to feel anything. I wanted to be dead to the world. And I did a good job of it for about a month, vodka, wine, Demerol, Percocet, and codeine, that was a winning combination. One morning I woke up propped against the kitchen island in my apartment with one hell of a hangover, after a night where I had decided to end it. I didn't know where I'd been, what I'd done or who I'd been with, if anyone. I just remember arguing with someone all night. I decided I'd had enough of that. I didn't like what was happening to me. I put the pills in a container and took them over to the hospital. I was done with that. Then I kept walking to find the nearest NA or AA meeting. Instead, I passed the art store I used to go to before the assault. Something drew me in. I ended up getting some things, and instead of Alcoholics Anonymous, I found myself sketching out my pain, painting followed. It's a beginning."

"That's wonderful going back to your art."

"He won't let me go. All I can think about most days is that night. How I could have changed it. It haunts me. He haunts me." I whispered.

Eve sipped some tequila while framing her response. Finally, she spoke. "My shooter haunted me Fran. Being shot was terrible. Dependent in the hospital was horrible, but it was the days after I was released, those were the worst day and, until I got therapy, he owned me. I couldn't sleep, eat, and absolutely couldn't work. I wanted to be numb to everything too. And I did a damn good job of that, just ask my parents or Sam about that." Eve's voice was gentle. "I wouldn't have been able to testify against him in court if I didn't do something. Sam persuaded me to get counseling. He and my therapist saved my life."

"That night Ted Glenville attacked me, he'd already picked his next victim. Vivian Dorsey, an art professor he was having an affair with. It turns out, his father, the Dean, was also having an affair with her. She told Mark before she died that it was a great thrill but a challenge to keep them separate. She was hoping that Dean Glenville would divorce his wife and if he wouldn't do that, she was ready to blackmail him into making her the Chair of the Art Department."

Eve gave me a quizzical look. "A woman who knew how to get what she wanted."

"As for me, l was on campus, taking a class from Dr. Link". I gave a small ironic laugh. "It was Ed's idea I do that. He saw one of my, what I called, doodles, and suggested I might enjoy a class, so I signed up."

"Ed told me that you were also involved in a murder investigation during all this."

"About a week after classes started, a young woman, a student was murdered. It seemed to be a random act. Campus police were doing their best to solve it. But Dean Glenville began getting threatening phone calls and letters about the murder, the blackmailer hinting very strongly that he or she knew the murdered girl had had a relationship with Dean Glenville and if he didn't stop his affairs, his career would be over. Two weeks later, a second coed was murdered. She had an affair with him too. Students were spooked. They didn't know the connection. The threats to the Dean got worse. I asked the Chief if I could look into it. How could he say no? I was on campus twice a week. I just started spending more time there. He was going to start an investigation even if I hadn't asked him.

Eve nodded. She knew all too well, rarely did the Chief refuse us when we saw a case needing to be investigated. "What happened that night?" she asked.

"I went back to the studio after class. I hadn't talked to my service. I was going out with some of the class."

Eve nodded reassuringly. I plunged on. It was time.

"After I called, I heard a noise in the sculpture room. Someone was moving around. I went in and saw that one of the sculptures had been destroyed."

"Did you see who did it?"

"No, but I saw the destruction and remembered wanting to ask Dr. Link about it. Ted was hiding in the studio when I came in. I didn't know that then. He followed me out to my car.

"He put two and two together and got nine."

I nodded and poured a couple of inches of _Dos Equis_ into my glass _. "_ He thought I'd seen him do it. He knew I was a cop. Ed and I had been to his house. We'd interviewed him, his mother, and his father about the murders on campus and death threats Dean Glenville had received. Ted thought I had figured out things, about the affair with Vivian Dorsey and the change in his sculpture. He said it was going to be his mother, but it was Vivian Dorsey. Ted told Ed that he had to save his mother's dignity and her marriage. He thought his father was going to divorce and leave her, and him, with nothing. The kid adored his mother to the point of being willing to kill anyone who he felt was a threat to her. Sad thing is she encouraged him". I drank a quarter inch or so of beer.

"Ed said it was pretty touch and go for you for the first few days."

"It was. He tried to smother me in the hospital. Fortunately, a floor nurse just happened to come in at the right time. She saved me. The Chief still feels responsible for my aneurysm bursting because he pushed me too hard to remember things from my first regaining consciousness. I don't blame him at all. Ed and Mark wouldn't have had much to work on if I hadn't been able to remember details. Ted Glenville would have gotten away. Two sets of parents would still be wondering who killed their children or why. Maybe I should pack it in. I'm no good to anyone right now. I don't know if I'll ever be."

"What would you do?"

"I don't know. I've got some money from my parents; there'd be disability, some pension. I could travel, maybe paint, I'm not sure." I took another longer sip of beer.

"Sounds like you're thinking through this, but you'd still be looking over your shoulder everywhere. He's going to get out of the hospital someday. You're going to get that "courtesy" call from Victim's Advocacy telling you he's "sane" and can't be held at Napa anymore. You have to take away his power now. If you don't, you've allowed him to destroy you just as if he'd been able to take your life that night in the parking lot."

"I saw the department counselor right after I got out of rehab. You know what he told me?"

"Let me guess…He said these supportive things to you." Count your lucky stars you're alive. Be thankful for that and life will be better once you get back in the saddle and get back to work."

I sat stunned, "you too?"

"Yeah, BooSoo" Eve said, referring to BSU, the department behavioral studies unit "can be a joke. I think therapy is helpful, if done well. It certainly was for me. Fortunately, the department will show you a list of available therapists. They won't tell you who's good. A friend recommended the one I saw."

There was a long pause as I contemplated what she was offering me. "Share the name with a sister blue?" I finally asked.

"I was hoping you'd ask". She slid a business card across the table to me.

I picked it up. "Janet Parkman. What does she know about?"

"She was a beat cop, worked fifteen years out of Taraval Station, Ingleside Terrace mostly, while she was getting her degrees, then worked Departmental Counseling, realized she wanted to work with cops, especially female cops, but on her terms. She's worked with victims of torture, substance abuse, domestic violence, things of that nature. She'll make you work, but she's good."

I swallowed hard. "I…. I don't go out at night anymore alone. I hate the dark… I need to be in the open all the time. I'm ready to walk away from a job I love, from Mark and Ed, the Chief, who've become my family, my friends; Right now, you seem to be the only one who understands me just a little bit and I barely know you."

"Just think of me as the older sister you secretly always wanted." We both laughed at that.

"Ed and Mark understand what you're going through a lot better than you think. Ed had doubts about continuing after he was shot in L.A., you knew that too. He says you were there for him the entire time he was in rehab. You came down almost every weekend and visited. You smuggled him out of the hospital and took him to baseball games. You brought his favorite deli sandwiches down to him, including the Chief's chili, with beer. Mark wouldn't have gotten through the last two years of law school if you hadn't been there for him. You covered shifts, commented on papers for him, typed them when he needed help, stayed with the Chief when he had to study or work late. You didn't have to do that for him, but you did."

"We're partners, that's what partners do for each other", I mumbled, suddenly understanding what she was getting at, and feeling incredibly stupid at the realization.

Eve saluted me with her shot glass then threw back a shot of _Hornitos_ _,_ her eyes widening slightly as the alcohol hit. She closed them, savoring the _reposado_ _._ "God, that's good."

I drank some more beer.

"For some reason Fran, you felt you had to measure up to me. That's a burden for anyone and I'm sorry about that. I would have been proud to have partnered with you. It will be a real loss if you leave. If you're going to walk away from all that, you better know exactly why you're doing it." Eve sipped some beer. "I'm planning on staying here with Mom and Dad for a couple of weeks, mainly so they can spoil their little princess. I intend to get some massages, go to dance class, see the bay, take in some culture, and engage a lot of eating and retail therapy. Interested?"

I nodded.

"That's a start. You call Dr. Parkman. I'll even take you to the first appointment. My friends here think it's _quaint_ _."_ She punctuated the word with her fingers, " that I had a real job and now, having married a cop, and having a child, raising her without a nanny like they all do and that I do things like clean my own house. I'm even quainter. I can take them only in small doses now. They didn't understand me when I became a cop and they sure don't understand me anymore and I don't care if they ever do. Being with you will be good for me as well."

A new order of tequila along with a fresh bucket of beer was placed on the table. I looked at it suspiciously. "If I were a detective, I'd swear you were trying to get me drunk." I laughed.

Eve grinned wickedly. "Nope, I'm just trying to show a sister who could use one, a good time. You are not obligated to drink all of it."

The hostess moved towards us. "Eve, your guests are here. Shall I seat them?"

"Oh, please do Rose; I didn't realize that it was that time already". She signaled to Pete "Bring us one more of these and keep them coming." She said, pointing at the drinks.

I felt panicky and rose from the table. I didn't care to be on display to her friends. ' _See my latest social work project. I'm going to make her all better'_ _._ I fumbled for some money. "I'll leave now. Thank you for today." I handed her a card. "Here's my phone number. Call me if you would like to get together. Enjoy your dinner with your friends."

"One thing you can do starting now, is, as you said, stop pushing the people who care about you as far away from you as possible." She smiled. "Besides, you're one of my dinner guests".

"Hey, two of my favorite ladies in the same room." A familiar baritone voice floated behind me.

I turned to see Mark Sanger behind me, arms extended for a hug. Behind him, grinning broadly was Ed Brown.

"Are we in time for the intervention?" Ed asked.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4 DINNER'S ON ME TONIGHT**

I allowed myself to be enveloped in my partners' hugs.

"You just missed it" I replied in a whisper to Ed.

"Good," Ed said, hugging me harder. "Does this mean you'll start answering your phone now?"

I nodded. "Yes, promise." I could feel tears sting the corners of my eyes.

He smiled. "Good." There was something about his voice and the look he gave me. It was different. He truly had missed me, and I realized that I had missed him just as much. Mark too. I'd forgotten the healing power of friendship. Catching up with Mark talking about Diana, and her new career as a prosecutor, his now five- month old babies, talking about the latest cases they were working on, bringing us up to speed on the latest department gossip. Making Eve and me laugh until our sides ached over the latest in what we called the "stupid crime files." Ed, Mark, and I held a weekly contest for the best or rather the worst crime story, based on the police reports filed in our fair city. The cop who filed the report was treated anonymously to dinner and drinks at Giamatti's, and Danny the bartender was instructed to never reveal who was paying the tab or why they had been chosen for the honor.

"So, here's today's best crime report." Mark began.

Ed rolled his eyes. "NOT _that_ one."

Mark grinned. "You mean the one I got called in on this morning? Oh yeah, I already sent the arresting officer an invite for next week."

"Oh Lord, I feel for this guy. I really do." Ed said. "But what a dim bulb he was".

"Are you going to let me tell this story or not, man?"

Ed threw up his hands laughing, "Your story, tell the tale of woe."

Mark smiled broadly "So, this dude decides to rob the Wells Fargo at the Civic Center. It all starts well. He drops the note on the teller, flashes a gun to scare her. Gets the cash drawer. So far so good, right? Then it all starts going…." He began laughing; a sure sign the poor schlemiel was going to be a resident of the jail before long.

"... _South_ on him. So, he's bookin' outta the bank and first sign it isn't going to be his day is when he drops the bag at the door. Half the loot spills on the floor. He's scared now and running, getting chased down the street by the security guard and some of the customers too. Then he discovers he's locked his keys inside the getaway car with the engine running. That's when everyone catches up to him. He tries to get away from these angry folks but he trips, falls, and manages to shoot himself in the leg, with his own gun. Fortunately for him, it was a flesh wound. Nothing serious."

We laughed until our sides ached. I could see even Eve wiping tears from her eyes.

"By the time I got there, I was basically needing to save this guy's sorry ass from the crowd. This guy was thanking me for saving him." Mark finished.

"Oh, my" Eve said, "what a schlub."

We calmed down after that. Noticing that some of the other patrons were giving us the look; cops weren't supposed to laugh, have fun or private lives. We were public servants, emphasis on the servant, for this group of people.

Eve began talking about life in Denver, Sam's job, and Suzanne's adventures as she discovered life. I was feeling better than I had for a long time. Some of it could have been attributed to the warm feeling I had from the alcohol, but I knew that she'd been right. I needed help, but I'd been too busy building doors, walls, moats and hedges, and keeping out those who could help me the most because they loved me. I could feel those barriers slowly begin to crumble.

"So, what have you ladies been up to today?" Ed asked after Pete had returned with more tequila and beer and taken our dinner orders.

"What else do women cops do on days off", Eve laughed, "coffee, talking, walking, talking, eating, talking, more coffee, and now dinner and drinks at a fine restaurant with two handsome men and of course, more talking. Why it took so long for me to finally meet Fran is beyond me." She pointed a polished finger at the two men. "I'm blaming _**you**_ , Ed Brown, and _**you**_ , Mark Sanger, as well as the Chief. I think you two were afraid we'd hit it off and I'd tell Fran _**everything**_ I knew about you two. Especially about how badly you treated me when I first joined the Chief, Sergeant Brown. You're not going to hear any of that tonight. I'm saving that for the next two weeks, and just for Fran's ears, so you're safe…. for tonight, boys." She grinned wickedly.

"Oh man, we are so in trouble now." I heard Mark say from across the table.

Eve continued, her voice brightening. "But we had fun today and tomorrow we're going shopping, which can be even more fun. How's the world of law enforcement, Ed? You and Mark have any fun today?"

Ed grimaced, scrunching up his face. "It's busy and the Chief is more bite and bark than usual. It's been _real_ fun, _lots_ of fun." His voice was tinged with heavy sarcasm. "Fran, please, you _gotta_ come back. Soon. We need you."

"Uhh Ed…." Mark's voice was low.

Ed continued his venting to me, not realizing his former partner was setting him up. "Not just to run the office. The Chief's even more short-tempered, cranky and contrarian than usual. We can't do anything right. You've got that knack to calm him down."

"No, really, Ed. You gotta stop, man". Mark said, trying to get his partner's attention. Eve too was trying hard not to break into laughter.

From where I sat next to Ed, I couldn't see anything until I heard that distinctive voice. I turned. There he was.

"Well, well, well, it's a reunion." Robert Ironside spoke up from the next table, where he sat with his longtime companion, Katherine Wainwright. Somehow, he'd managed to come in and sit by us without any of us noticing until he wanted us to. We knew there had to be reasons for him being here, and we'd soon find out why.

"Eve, why didn't you tell me you were back in town and that you and Fran had become such good friends? Officer Belding, it's a special treat to see you tonight. You're looking well. Are you considering coming back to work? There are some cases that could use your accounting expertise. In fact, as long as I'm here, I have a little gift for you, and Officer Sanger, weren't you supposed to have a shift tonight?" He turned his chair to face the now extremely red-faced Ed Brown.

" _ **Sergeant**_ Brown, I'm concerned. Me? Contrarian? Short tempered? Cranky? Barking and biting? Do I need calming down? Why haven't you shared your feelings with me before? I'm hurt that you haven't. We'll talk about that later. But, frankly, I'm shocked to see you all carrying on like this. It seems like you're having a bit too much fun. How fortunate for me though that you chose a place that serves good Mexican food. There's no chili on the menu though. I'm betting Eve must have chosen this place."

Turning to Katherine, I heard him say while smiling at her. "She didn't like to eat chili very often." He waved his hand. "or at least not mine."

Eve glared at him. "I heard that Chief!"

"Ed used to be the same way too. Hated the stuff. Fran and Mark have the good sense to eat and be quiet about it."

"Only out of respect for my mother because you try to cook it like she did on poker nights, I retorted laughingly. "And you're getting better at it all the time".

The Chief nodded in agreement." Maggie Belding was a saint to put up with all of us and cooked like an angel. And I admit I stole her chili recipe." He waved his hand to get the waiter's attention. "Pete! How close can Kate and I get to this unruly children's table? I think they need a couple of adults to keep them out of trouble."

"Somehow he found out about this. Not from me", Eve whispered to me. "It was supposed to be just you, me, Diana, Mark, and Ed."

"Eve, since you're looking so concerned, you can blame your mother for this happy accident. Marion told me where you were. You're to call her before you're safely in a taxi tonight unless you close this place down. Considering who you're with, I strongly believe that might be a distinct possibility. Mark, you can blame Diana for telling me that Eve was in town. Sorry she couldn't join us tonight. She's in court next week, right? The Ferry trial isn't it."

"Yessir". Mark replied.

"I wish her well. Ferry needs to be taken off the streets **permanently**. She's just the person who can do that."

He waved his hand again. Pete came over. We were moved to a larger table and Ironside handed him two bottles.

"I know this isn't on the cellar list, but I want to open and share it. Let it breathe about thirty minutes before serving it, will you?"

Pete looked at the bottles. "That won't be a problem Chief."

While we waited, Pete brought appetizers none of us had ordered.

"I don't know why, but I've decided that dinner is on me tonight," Ironside said as we ate and continued to tell stories. "But I'm glad you're all here. Katherine and I couldn't think of anyone else we wanted to share this news with. First…" Ironside paused as a waiter brought wine glasses for each, and Pete carefully filled them with a dark red wine.

"First news is that I have bought a ranch near Healdsburg in Sonoma County; actually, a small vineyard. No, I'm not retiring… at least not yet. But when I do, I'll be growing grapes and making wine. For now, there's a lot of work to be done out there and you're all welcome to help anytime you can come., I'll pay you in all the chili you can eat and there are cabins out there you all can stay in. This" he said, pointing to the wine, "is a test batch of a Cabernet I want to make. The grapes I bought from a local farmer. I've got a man out there adding to the current vineyard so about the time I retire, I'll have the grapes, can watch them grow and start bottling my own wine.

We took turns admiring the color and aroma then Mark raised his glass. "To Château Ironside, the first of many fine bottles".

"Hear, hear", we said, then sampled. It was good; full-bodied, dry, yet there was a sweetness to it. The Chief had created a wine with characteristics very much like himself. We took turns congratulating him and his winemaker. The Chief looked pleased. It was strange hearing him talk about retirement though.

"And, I'm happy to announce that this lovely woman has agreed to marry me at last. We've set a date for September 21 at the ranch".

Ed stood, raising his glass. I could see the happiness on his face. "Chief, Katherine, congratulations with all our love and much happiness to you both." The rest of us chimed in our good wishes.

Well, now that we've celebrated my success. Let's have one more. Fran, this is for you."

Pushing away from the table, he rolled his chair to where I sat.

"Young lady, you took the Sergeant's Exam without telling any of us, especially me. According to Commissioner Randall, you scored higher than 97 percent of those who took the test. So, everyone have a drink? Good. A toast is in order." The Chief pulled an envelope from his inside jacket, unfolded a sheet of paper, cleared his throat and began. "It is the decision, of the Police Commissioners of the City of San Francisco, that Detective Officer 1st Grade Maria Francesca Isabella Muñoz y Belding, better known to her family, as Fran," He said as an aside, "be promoted this day to the rank of Sergeant, with all the privileges and benefits said rank is endowed with and entitled to. Congratulations". His voice faded off.

I sat stunned. I'd taken the exam just before the attack. I meant to tell the Chief I'd done it, but with everything that had happened, I'd forgotten. I'd just stopped caring about getting the results. I was dimly aware of chairs scraping around me. I looked up to see Ed, Mark, Katherine, and Eve standing around me, raising their glasses.

The Chief hugged my hands tightly. "Your father… and your mother would be so proud of you."

I could see softness in the corners of his eyes. I nodded, unable to trust my voice. I'd taken the test, mostly to prove I could do it, but for the Chief, Mark, and Ed. It was my way of saying thank you for staying with me and teaching me how to be a good cop, something dad would have done too if he'd stayed alive. I wrapped my arms around his neck and we sat like that for a time, oblivious to everyone else there.

"If you're thinking you're getting my parking space, it isn't happening," Ed laughed.

"Oh _Sarge_ ," Mark called out. "I've got some parking tickets maybe you could take care of for me."

"Speech," Eve called. The others pounded on the table. Haltingly I got up. The Chief poured more wine into my glass.

"I did this because you all gave me the encouragement and strength to take that test. You're my family, all of you." I raised my wine glass.

Glasses clinked. "To family", they chorused.

By the time we finished dinner, the Chief insisting on dessert, coffee and after dinner brandy, the restaurant had closed. Pete stood behind the bar, patiently waiting for us. The Chief paid the bill, gave Pete an envelope and we shuffled out. Eve reminded me that we'd meet about ten at Phil'z for coffee and plan out the day. The Chief and Katherine got into the Chief's Jeep, driving in one direction and Mark and Eve flagging a cab to ride to midtown and Nob Hill. I waved goodnight to them and started walking the opposite direction of the cab. Walking was something I used to do frequently before the assault. It felt good tonight.

"Hey," Ed called out to me. "It's after two am. How do you think you're getting home?"

"It's a nice night. Thought I'd walk. It's not too far."

"Well then, let me walk with you."


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5 SLOW WALK ON A FAST NIGHT (APOLOGIES TO JOHN ADAMS)**

The walk home was filled with little small talk. Ed was never good at that, so there were a lot of companionable silences. He slowed from his usual brisk pace in acknowledgment of my still healing body. Finally, we were standing by the cement steps in front of my apartment building.

"And here I guess is where I say goodnight". He grinned down at me.

"Wait, before you go. I need to tell you something. It's a thank you. When I got to the situational part of the test, I kept thinking, how would you have dealt with it? Resolved the situation you know. And, it worked". I could feel my voice speed up and jump an octave. A sure sign I was nervous.

 **"WWEBD?** _What Would Ed Brown Do?_ I like that. Maybe I should put that on a bracelet, sell it to those who're taking the next Sergeant's test. Inspire them to greatness. Split the profits with you of course. Seriously, even though you didn't ask me for any actual help, I'm glad I could help you on the test. It's a bear, isn't it, Sergeant."

I liked the fact he used my new title and how he said it as if we were equals. I nodded an assent. I walked around and leaned against the cement. Ed followed me.

"And now," Ed began, "as long as we're telling truths, it's my turn. When we... weren't, when I … I... wasn't sure you were going to make it that first night, I made a promise to you. When we first met, it wasn't good between us. I remember what I said to you, that night in the office, in front of everyone."

"Lady, if you ever need help; don't call me." I finished.

"I was so angry my partner was gone. The chief was hurting, not going to see the doctor. Not having the surgery. Then you come on board and the chief hurts himself again, and I blame it on you. I didn't try to be in any way..."

"The charming fellow I see before me right now?"

He laughed and shook out a cigarette from his pack. He lit it and drew a deep inhale. "What I'm trying to say, is that you make me crazy, Maria Francesca Muñoz Belding. You have done that from the beginning, made me crazy. I think I know you, and then something happens, and I don't."

I looked at him and brought his hand up to my lips, brushing it gently. " _No podía ayudarme_. I couldn't help myself. It's what I used to say when I got into arguments with my mother. Usually when she had to take me home after my fighting one of the boys in class. Mamita would tell me, over, and over, " _Mija_ _, s_ _e hicieron dificultades que hay que superar_ _."_ Daughter _,_ _difficulties were made to be overcome_."

"You don't talk a lot about your mother."

"Mamita was incredible. She loved us very much. She married an outsider, an Anglo, and her family didn't take it well. Some of them thought dad was immigration and would deport them, even though they were all legal citizens. It was hard for her to be a cop's wife too. She taught school and she wasn't like all the other cops wives. She didn't have time for bridge games or the other things they did. She was too busy teaching, taking care of us, and her family. I was fifteen when she died. I came home from school, burst through the front door, and ran upstairs to get that uniform off me. I found her in the kitchen…on the floor…She'd had a massive heart attack. She was alone when she died, and I didn't get a chance to tell her I loved her one last time. My father was a single parent who tried to keep me out of trouble. I was not an easy child after that, you can ask the Chief about the time he took me to juvie." I saw a smile cross Ed's face as he thought about that image.

"The anger you had towards everyone after the Chief got you assigned here."

"Wouldn't you have felt a bit like me if everyone around you thought your father was a dirty cop; Every cop I knew, thought my father was corrupt. You could hear doors slam all over the city the day after my father was buried. People I thought loved my father, and don't think I didn't know your attitude towards dirty cops.

You were Ironside's Man, Eagle Scout, Mr. Squeaky Clean. Suddenly, I'm transferred, and I must work with you every day. I was so sure you thought, "like father, like daughter", every time I was in your presence. In fact, I could almost see it ooze out of your pores like sweat. To your credit, even when I deserved every bit of anger you had towards me, you were professional, every step of the way."

"I wish I could have told you about the Chief's plan earlier. We couldn't tell you not only because we thought the mole might, unknowingly to you, be in contact with you, putting the entire case in jeopardy, not just the case, more importantly, your life at risk. The Chief swore us to secrecy."

I touched his hand. "It's ok. Mark had a long talk with me about how the Chief worked, I know why it had to happen that way."

We were silent a while.

"When you told me that night in the van about Anne's death. How you loved her, about the life you were going to make for yourselves and how Tom Dayton took that away. We found we had things in common. We'd both lost people we loved deeply, violently. Our lives had been shattered. You wanted to tell me I could pick up the pieces and move forward again."

"When you came, I'd just lost my partner" Ed began. "She didn't die. She didn't tell us she was resigning. She invited us to the wedding, and then she didn't come back after her honeymoon. She didn't tell us she wasn't coming back. Where does that put me? Mark couldn't be my partner. The Chief was hurting. I was afraid for him. What would happen to him if he didn't take care of his injury? Then you came. You were so new, so full of righteous anger. I didn't want to deal with you because I was too angry myself. I decided you couldn't be an asset to us. Most importantly I was mad at Eve for leaving and **you weren't Eve."**

"It's taken me a while to accept this, but I'm never going to be Eve. I can only be me."

There was a feeling that something important had just happened between us. We had said exactly what was in our hearts and although it could have gone that other way, we had treated each other kindly. Maybe it was the booze speaking, but it seemed that something that had needed to be resolved just had. I felt calmer and happier. Ed looked more relaxed. Why had it taken so long for us to say what had been on our minds?

"What was it your mother would say to you, "Difficulties were made to be overcome?

I nodded.

He bent down and kissed me on the cheek. "What I promised you that night, was to always be there for you, no matter what. I wasn't going to lose you."

Ed kissed me again. This time the kiss had some body English to it. I responded in kind. We broke apart. I was flushed. He was breathing hard. I took his hand and led him up the steps to my apartment.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 Carnival of the Animals**

"So we went upstairs, sat on the couch, were talking, laughing; then we both fell asleep right there. Ed must have woke early because when I did, he was gone."

Eve started coughing mid sip, trying not to laugh. "So much for romantic evenings, girlfriend, I really need to teach you some moves."

I laughed, thinking about the kind of moves she'd put on Sam Dwyer. We were at Phil'z, and once again, Phil acted like a mother hen over us. Finally I told him Eve was a friend, not a potential buyer, and I'd be paying the bill. Phil waved his hand dismissively. I wondered what type of tab I was running here.

"But you did kiss?"

"Yes"

"And he started it."

"Yes." I nodded blushing

"He didn't look like he was going to have root canal."

"No".

"And you did have serious make out before this crashing on the couch?"

I felt myself grow hotter, as if a small forest fire had started on my face and was working down my body. "Yes, a bit" I grinned.

Eve sighed with satisfaction. "I just love to see happy people."

We drank more coffee. I searched out a cheese Danish and took a bite, washing it down with a sip of coffee. "It's kind of weird. I'm afraid I'll blow what's become a great partnership by having a relationship with him."

"It's too late." Eve said firmly. "You both can blame it on being buzzed, but that bridge's been crossed and burned. The ship has sailed. The train has left. Why bother closing the barn door when the horse is gone."

"I get the message".

"So, are you thinking of going back to work?"

"I'll think about it more after I meet with Dr. Parkman."

"And that is?"

"This Thursday at 2. Dropping your name helped get me in faster, I think."

Eve pulled out her calendar book and scribbled a message "''Kay. It's in the book."

"Listen Eve, you don't have to come."

"I promised you I would, and I keep my promises to my friends." She gave me a look that indicated the matter was closed. "But I have to change plans today. Shopping that is. Suzanne decided that she needed to go to the zoo today, and I can't disappoint my child, especially after I didn't come home until well after her bedtime last night." she checked her watch. "My father should be here just, about …" She got up as a tall, handsome, silver haired, well- dressed man came in, attached to a bouncing young girl. " _now_. Daddy! Here I am." We paused for introductions. "Howard Whitfield, Fran Belding."

We exchanged greetings. Her father looked somewhat relieved to be getting a break from his energetic granddaughter. Eve scooped her daughter into her arms.

"Mommy! Mommy! Go SOO! **GO SOO** **NOW!** Suzanne begged.

"Your mother expects you home for dinner tonight Evie." Her father said with mock sternness. "No closing down bars."

"I will Daddy. I **p** ** _romise_** _._ No bars for me tonight. May I bring a guest for dinner?"

"Let Bonita know. She's preparing your favorite, Cioppino, she will want to make sure there's enough. I'll be at the club this afternoon. Your mother is at the Chinn's today. It's Thursday and traditions must be maintained. Smilingly he accepted a kiss from his daughter and granddaughter, nodded to me, and left.

"Can you come for dinner tonight?" Eve asked. "And welcome to my childhood. Think I'd take Sunday's at Phil'z anytime over the Navy Club and mah jongg. Bridge is pretty boring and the conversations were more so. Emmy Chinn and I grew up with our mothers playing mah jongg for decades and neither of us will go near a table if you paid us to play. I much prefer poker. Maybe we can get a game going with the guys before I leave.

"You remember how to play five card stud?"

"Still a quarter to get in?"

"Uh huh."

"Wednesday night at 8?"

"I'll save you a seat."

Suzanne stared at me suspiciously.

"That daughter of yours lives dangerously wearing that shirt here." I quipped, looking at the bright orange t shirt that blared " **Denver Broncos** ".

"Her daddy took her to meet John Elway, their quarterback. She loves him."

"Bet she'd feel the same about Jerry Rice." I shot back.

"Susie, this is Fran. She's a friend of mine. She's a cop like your daddy."

She looked at me wide eyed for a scant second then ignored me, which was ok. I had a feeling that I'd be spending a lot of time with her. Looking up at her mother Suzanne looked as if she was going to cry. Her mother was taking too long to fill a promise.

"Mommy go soo now, please! I wanna see lions." She squirmed fiercely in Eve's arms.

"Feel like a trip to the zoo?" Eve asked, letting her down on the floor, her eyes pleading for some support.

I grabbed my camera case out of the backpack. "It might be a very good day for some photos".


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7 CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN BELDING**

The night before my appointment with Janet Parkman, I slept poorly. Ted Glenville took center stage in my dreams, still reluctant to loosen his hold on me. It was like an endless film loop, reliving that night, again and again. My subconscious mind refused to let me flee. He kept taunting me; calling me a stupid little Latina whore; accusing me of sleeping with his father like the other murdered women did, of disrespecting his mother. Telling me I deserved to die. What kind of bitch was I to think I could mess with him? I could feel his excitement as he grabbed me around the neck. I could smell his body as he pulled me closer to him. I felt the air escape from me as my body struggled to fight him off. Then there was the moment I saw and felt first the ground as I fell, followed by the earth rising up to meet the back of my head, followed by the shock of pain, then the blackness, deeper and darker than any I'd ever experienced before when he repeated the motion. When I was finally released from the train wreck movie playing in my head, I awakened foggy brained and exhausted, my stomach knotted with that familiar feeling of dread; my sheets tangled and soaked with sweat, my throat hoarse. Once more, I'd unknowingly screamed myself awake. I looked up at my ceiling, wondering why I thought that going to see Eve's shrink would help. Why had I agreed to it? Lying there in the mess of my bed, I came up with my escape plan. I'd tell Dr. Parkman that I'd been drunk when I agreed to see her. I'd been plied with tequila and I'd just wanted to stop Eve Dwyer from asking questions she had no business asking, making an appointment only to get her off my back. Today, I was fine, thank you very much doctor, recovering nicely, both mentally and physically, and I'd be sure to settle the bill on my way out the door; sorry to have taken up your time that should have been used on someone with real problems. I felt that nothing she could offer would help, nor was there anything that really could. I threw the bed sheets off, dragged myself out of bed, made coffee, showered, dressed, and took a thermos cup over to the small park across the street from the apartment drinking it while watching the sky brighten and the fog start to burn off. I hadn't liked the last shrink I went to. I'd gone only because I knew that the department wanted to cover themselves from all eventualities, including placing me on medical retirement or more critical, my filing a negligence lawsuit against the department. The shrink I met with was the assistant head of BSU, the Behavioral Science Unit, what we all called _Boo Soo._

He'd stared at me, owl eyed, over his glasses from across his polished desk with the window with the bay view, my file open before us on the desktop, uttering jargon laden phrases and platitudes, asking what I thought were inane questions, about my relationship with Mark and Ed, did I ever think of them as more than just professional partners, and the Chief. Wasn't I just substituting him as a surrogate for my own deceased father? I felt that he wasn't about helping me. He'd never spent a day in a cop's shoes. His concern, I felt was a sham, a way to wheedle into my confidence. The array of diplomas and certificates on his walls showed me he spent far more time in academia and conference presentations than he did walking a beat with an officer or handling a call. I don't think he ever dealt with the immediacy of a shooting, or had to deal with people we dealt with whose lives were forever changed by one senseless action, called any of the names we were called, nor took any of the other types of abuse we faced. He got to go home to his family at 5 pm every weekday, had the weekends and holidays off, and would never understand the schedule Robert Ironside had us on. He was more concerned about knowing who I wanted to date, or if I was looking for a new father, than he was in finding out how I neglected friends and family, hiding from them after being let out of the hospital and transferred to the rehab center. He certainly should have been interested in my becoming a fixture at liquor stores on Geary and my over reliance on the painkillers prescribed for me. He admitted during our last session that he really just wanted to know when I thought I could work again. How was I to know? He was the professional.

Eve said Dr. Parkman was different. She saw her as having two advantages; she'd started out as a beat cop before changing careers and she knew how ask the hard questions and get answers that would actually help. Eve had done that in our first conversation, her questions and comments had been direct, but I'd taken it and dared her to dish out more. In retrospect, maybe Nietzsche was right, possibly I was stronger than I looked or thought. I decided it was time that perhaps I should ignore Escape Plan A, and accept that it was time to develop a Plan B, one that included my friends and maybe Janet Parkman.

I could feel the sun beginning to warm me. My mug was empty and I debated going back to the apartment and getting another cup. Across the way, I heard the muffled sounds of conversation and saw the small group of people that came to the park faithfully each morning greeting each other and beginning to perform the graceful dance movements of Tai Chi. Many of them were dressed in white Mandarin collared button down jackets and black pants. I began to pull out the small pad I kept in my back pocket to sketch them. Just as I started; the leader smiled at me gesturing that I should join them instead. Smiling back, I shook my head and started to refuse, but then I felt drawn to them. Walking towards them, I found a spot on the grass and, as best I could, joined the dance.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 I Just Dropped In To See What Condition My Condition Was In**

I found I enjoyed Tai Chi. It was graceful, gentle and it was far more physical than I had thought. The leader, an older man named Benton Liang, talked with me afterwards over tea at a nearby coffeehouse, inviting me to come any morning I wanted to. I didn't have to wear the "uniform", he said, just some comfortable clothes, but, he added, appraising me, if I had ballet slippers, I'd find them more comfortable than athletic shoes.

I wonder how he knew I'd done all the obligatory dance classes from Folklorio, to Irish step, to ballet as a kid. More and more people were discovering the benefits of Tai Chi, he continued, and more young people were studying it because they wanted to perform the elegant aerials they saw in the Bruce Lee movies. He did this because he believed in its philosophy but he also had a more practical reason for doing this. He liked the social nature of working out with a group of people every day.

"Like chicken soup. It is food for both your body and your spirit." He told me laughing.

I left him feeling in far better spirits than I had on waking up and continued walking towards my apartment, warming up a bowl of tortilla soup when I got there. I ate it on my back porch that afforded a small peek of Garfield Park, where earlier I could have viewed the Tai Chi group but now watched kids playing basketball. I looked at my clock, it read 11:15. I had plenty of time. Going back in the apartment, I rinsed the bowl in the sink and from the small closet I used as a combination office and art cabinet, took an easel and a canvas off the shelf, along with some watercolors, brushes, and a pencil, remembering the time Ed and Mark helped me build it with the Chief as always providing expert supervision. Three large sausage pizzas and two six packs of Anchor Stream later it was done and Diana and I were painting it. Taking the materials back out to the porch, I began sketching what I saw, young teens, almost men, playing the classic game of skins and shirts. The sketch went quickly and soon I found myself applying colors.

I must have really lost myself in the work, because I didn't come up for air until I heard a loud knock at the door.

"Fran! It's Eve. You there?"

I suddenly remembered I had an appointment and Eve was taking me to it. Hastily I threw on clean clothes and brushed my hair. I opened the door to see Eve with a somewhat panicked expression on her face.

"What were you painting?" she asked with relief as I let her in.

"How'd you know?"

I was a detective once and besides you've got paint on your face". She laughed as I went to wash it off.

I was quiet on the ride over to Dr. Parkman's office. In the few days I'd known her I discovered that Eve had that gift of allowing for silence when necessary. While she drove, I reviewed the instructions I'd been given. Enter through the door marked private, sit in the lounge and wait until Dr. Parkman invited me into the office. I could do that.

The car stopped.

"We're here"

I must have lost track of where I was. I gaped at the house. It was one of the original "Painted Ladies" of San Francisco. It was gorgeous. Therapy had been very good to Janet Parkman.

Eve read my mind. "Family house. I felt the same way the first time I saw it. It's been in her family since the earthquake of 1906, one of the few that survived. Want me to go in with you

"No, I can do that much. Thanks though."

She gave me a sisterly hug. "It will be ok, really; see you in an hour."

With that, I got out of the car, walked up the steps to the porch and went in.

I was alone in the waiting room. There were no others in it waiting for a patient or an appointment, no secretary, just me. I took a magazine from a rack, sat down and began to glance through it, flipping the pages aimlessly. I could feel my stomach rumble; a bad sign. I heard a door open across the hall followed by the click of the front door. I waited a few minutes more.

"Fran Belding? Janet Parkman".

We shook hands and went across the hall to her spare but well-appointed office. She motioned for me to sit down in a comfortable chair, while she took a seat in the black Aeron chair behind the desk. I took the time to notice her. She was older than me, tall, her hair slightly graying, dressed in a very tailored, not at all flashy, manner. Professional. I was a professional too. We were two professional women about to talk about the things that scared me most in the world.

"Tell me why you're here today."

"About four months ago, I was almost beaten to death. I'm at a crossroads and don't know which way I'm going." I swallowed

She nodded, "Tell me more about what happened then."

I started by giving her the little details first, the inconsequential ones. She said nothing but let me talk in ever smaller circles, occasionally proffering a question, or encouraging me to elaborate. Finally I broke down sobbing, telling her about the night I decided to end it all, courtesy of the prescribed painkillers and tranquilizers and the two fifths of vodka I'd bought at a little store down the street from me. I was having a party, I told the clerk, who took my money and handed over two bottles of cheap 100 proof blue label Popov vodka in exchange.

She handed me a box of tissues and waited while I composed myself.

"What made you decide to live?" She said quietly.

" _No podía ayudarme_. I couldn't help myself. That's what I always said to my mother every time I got into trouble. I got drunk enough that night that I was having an argument with a ghost on the kitchen floor. Course, I didn't remember that until a lot later. Her response to me was always to hug me tightly and whisper, " _Se hicieron dificultades que hay que superar._ " Difficulties were made to be overcome." It was strange because that night I felt she really was there and I was being actually hugged and reassured."

"Do you think she was with you that night?

"I'm not superstitious, but yes, I think someone was there with me that night. I kept hearing that I could overcome this. I kept saying no. Finally I heard the voice say something about not pushing the people who cared about me away." I paused. "I felt like she was there, hugging me. Could I have been not hallucinating?"

"Your mother died when?"

"I was fourteen. She had a heart attack".

"Father alive?"

"No. He was killed in the line of duty four years ago."

"Dave Belding," she said quietly. "I remember him; he was a good man, a good cop. Any other family?"

"A cousin here in the city. He's with the police too. You might know him, Rod Pena, Detectives. Otherwise we've drifted apart."

"You see him often?"

"Not really, sometimes in the building every now and again, but not regularly since my mother died."

The Sundays at Phil'z after Mass with my aunts, uncles, and cousins, were a long ago memory.

"Attending AA or NA?"

"Neither. After I decided I needed to stop this, I took the pills to San Francisco General. I was looking for a meeting that day and walked past the art supply place I used to go to. I walked out a couple hundred dollars poorer, but I've been working steadily since."

"I'd love to see what you do. Would you consider bringing some work in sometime?"

I agreed to the request. She might not be an artist, but she might see how I was releasing some of the feelings inside me.

There was a pause. "Do you have any kind of substance abuse problems I need to know about?"

"No. the pills are gone and I'm not drinking heavily. I can remember what I did the night before now."

"Other support for you getting healthy?"

I told her about Eve's visit, and seeing Mark, the Chief, and Ed at _Colibri_.

"Is that enough of a start?" She asked.

"I 'm not sure if I can overcome this enough to go back to work with the Chief".

"Do you want to?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. I'm just tired of saying I can't help myself." Frustrated, I heard a soft chime. The session was over.

"That is something I think we can work together on. As your mother said, difficulties were made to be overcome. It's a starting place. It's not necessarily going to be easy. When do you go back to BooSoo for your psych eval?"

"About the time my leave is done; end of September, mid October, if there should be a physical setback."

"I think we should plan on another meeting this week and then at least two a week. Comp will cover it. Is that something you can do?"

I nodded.

"Good. I'd like to see you tomorrow if you can make it, I know it's Friday and you might have plans. But we can decide on a regular schedule. This time work for you?"

"Yes"

She scribbled in her schedule book. "Good. Friday at two it is." She smiled at me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 Peter Pan, She Isn't**

I stepped out of the Parkman house and into the sun, Eve's car was nowhere to be seen. Shading my eyes against the rays, I saw Ed Brown's lanky figure, dressed in his usual attire of slightly rumpled brown suit, dress shirt collar unbuttoned and partially open, tie loosely knotted, leaning against his city provided black Ford Galaxie's front fender with his arms crossed, a relaxed position for him. After last night and Eve's pleased comments about what happened, I was felt as if I was being set up and I was going to let both Ed and Eve know how I felt about this. I crossed the street to the car.

"Officer, do we have a problem?"

Ed grinned. "Afraid your ride got cancelled, Fran. Suzanne thought she was Peter Pan and could fly. Instead, she crash landed in grandma's back yard. She'll be fine, but it seems she broke her collarbone and her left arm. Eve's a little panicked."

I felt awful. I'd thought one thing and I was wrong. Ed was just being a friend.

"Where is she?"

"St Mary's".

"Eve could probably use some friends right now, don't you think?"

Ed scooted around the car, opening the passenger side door for me. "Yes ma'am, I believe so," shutting the door firmly behind me.

At the hospital, Ed parked the car in the spot marked **Reserved for Police: Official Business Only**.

"We are not here on "official" business, Ed."

"Yes ma'am, we are." Ed replied in his best Joe Friday imitation. "I don't know about you, but I intend to ask the victim of this accident a few questions. Maybe take an incident report from the parent. That makes it official, right?"

We stopped in the hospital gift store, so that Ed could get a 'couple of things' for Suzanne. By the time he was done, his 'couple' of things included balloons, candy, several of her favorite _Curious George_ books, as well as a stuffed version of the famous chimp.

"Gonna spoil that child," I told him with mock seriousness as we entered the elevator.

"They wouldn't let me spoil you when you were in General." He smiled, "Besides, poor kid, her arm and collarbone's broken. She deserves some spoiling."

"You mean I missed out on _Curious George_ when I was in the hospital?"

"You did, and I thought about _The Little Engine That Could,_ too, but maybe I can buy you dinner tonight to make up for that neglect?"

"Where?"

"Giamatti's?"

I groaned inwardly. "Not Giamatti's", I pleaded. For some reason, I didn't want half of SFPD checking out my dinner companion tonight.

"Ok." Our elevator opened onto a children's playground instead of a lobby. "Not Giamatti's."

The walls were brightly muraled, toys spilled out of boxes, a large screen tv in the center of the back wall showed that day's Giants game, kids sprawled on the couches playing video games or checked their email. There were fish tanks with brightly colored residents; one contained a large iguana that one could easily see fascinated them. A large cage contained several parakeets, chirping away. A cat delicately picked its way through the assembly of kids connected to infusion poles, in wheelchairs, on crutches, or their own two legs. A quiet but friendly Golden Labrador Retriever tucked himself on a bed behind the nurses station, looking up expectantly to see if we had a treat. The nurses wore brightly colored tunics and chatted easily with the kids. They came out to make adjustments of pic lines, take vitals, administer medication, joke with, or give a patient a friendly touch. They made no attempt to shoo them away, you could tell that each child was important, and immediately I knew from the well organized chaos that Suzanne was in a good place.

"This is quite a place. I only saw the adult ward when the Chief was here. I was pretty impressed with them and the work they did with him." Ed commented.

"When I saw him after his surgery, you could see how the nurses and the sisters cared about not just him, but for all their patients."

"Yep, Sister Agatha runs a good shop."

"Thanks for coming to pick me up. It was good of you to do that."

"I saw the look when you came out. How mad were you that I was waiting for you?"

"Mad enough to have yelled. I didn't want you to know I was doing this. Not until later when I had an idea of how it was going."

He looked down at me. "Well, I know we were a little bit snockered last night, but ….I was serious about what I said, being there for you.

I smiled at him. "Love your definition of 'little bit snockered,' it's just me. I'm finally starting to realize that the physical work was probably easier than what I'm getting into now. "

We were standing just outside Suzanne's room. He bent down and held my cheek and chin between his fingers, lightly caressing my skin as he brushed my other cheek with his lips, sending all sorts of tingles up and down me. "Any way I can help, let me know."

 _"_ _Ohh boy,_ _"_ I thought after letting Ed go into the room while I tried to settle down my blood pressure, hormones, and thoughts about how he could help me. I took a deep breath before walking into the room. Ed was sitting by Suzanne's bed telling her the many uses for her cast when she finally got it. I couldn't hear all of them, but Suzanne was laughing. I could see by the look on her face on her face she'd already found the chocolate he brought her.

"Want some chocolate now, puhleeze," she begged.

Ed promised she would get some right after she got her cast on as a reward for being brave. It seemed to satisfy her.

Eve embraced me as I came in. She looked tired but otherwise appeared fine. "You didn't have to come."

"I had a police escort. I couldn't refuse."

The way Eve smiled, I recognized the look. She looked as if she'd been up all night. Though this only happened about three hours ago, worrying about your family did that to you, it aged you prematurely. It made you feel ulcerative. I'd gone through all of that. I knew what she was feeling. Eve had been told at first that Suzanne was staying overnight just to make sure there were no complications from the concussion she suffered. She'd lost consciousness briefly after landing. Eve said not all the scans had come back yet. It could be more than just a simple break. I agreed with her. Better to err on the side of caution. Eve needed to be certain her daughter wasn't going to have any problems.

"Mother and a friend were watching her play in the backyard with the friend's grandchild. They didn't realize the game the girls were playing was Double Dog Dare You. Before she knew it, Suzie had climbed up all the way to the first large branch. Mother asked her to come down, and she decided not to shinny down, but jump."

I nodded. "I did that once at age seven; broke my wrist. Suzie's tough. She'll be fine. How're you doing?"

"As best as I can. My five year old child just jumped out of a ten foot tree and now she's in the hospital. I feel a little helpless."

Suzanne yelled "Fran!" I went over to see her.

"I flied Fran, all by myself. But I crashed."

"And now you know _chica,_ you can't fly without wings."

"I get a cast!" Paint it."

"Say _please_ Suzie". Her mother interjected.

"Puhleeze Fran?"

"I thought you might want me to _sobrina_ , so I'll do that after you get home."

Suzanne beamed at Ed. "I luff you." She said to him, her voice started sounding a little loopy. Closing her eyes, she began snoring softly.

"They gave her medication a while ago," Eve whispered.

"What aren't you telling us?"

"They took a lot of x-rays Ed. They may need to do more than a simple cast, I think, possibly operate."

"When will you know for sure?"

She pointed to the white coated man in surgical scrubs coming towards us. "Probably now."

The doctor introduced himself as Paul Jurek, a pediatric orthopedic surgeon. He was pleasant and efficient, explaining that the x-rays confirmed what he thought. "It was a supracondylar fracture of the left arm."

"In English please." Ed asked.

"Above the elbow." Pinning it would help aid the recovery and he had an operating room ready for her. He reassured Eve that Suzanne would make a full recovery and should be able to have complete use of the arm after the pins were removed in eight weeks.

"I'll call the Chief and Mark, let them know what's going on,"

While he went to call them from the nurses station, I sat with Eve. She took the sleeper couch and I took the room's one chair.

"Have you called Sam yet?"

"No. I will though. Soon. _"_ She said nervously. "Once the surgery has started and I know what's going on".

"It's going to be ok. She didn't land on her back and kids break arms and collarbones all the time."

"It's my first, remember?"

"Knowing Suzie, it won't be her last."

Eve laughed wanly. "I should have demanded the instruction manual when she was born."

We went out into the hallway so a surgical team could come in to ease Suzanne out of bed and onto a gurney, connecting her to monitors and inserting a saline drip into her vein. As they passed us, they slowed to allow Eve time to give her a quick kiss on the forehead and stroke her hair. We followed the cart to the entrance of the surgical suite. Then we sat in the waiting room. I remember the waiting room I sat in the night my father died and when Ed, Mark and the Chief had been injured. They had sat in one just a few months ago when I was beaten. We hated these rooms. Two hours went by that seemed like an eternity. We sat in groups, Ed and I, the Chief with Eve's parents, and Diana, Mark, and Eve, talking about their children.

"When my girls get big enough, I'm going to bubble wrap them until they're married." He said laughingly, referring to his five month old twin daughters. "No trees for them."

Ed kept looking at the hallway and checking his watch.

"Doctor Jurek will be back soon." I said.

Ed shook his head, then he grinned.

I turned to see who he was looking at. I could see a man sprinting down the hallway. He looked familiar. Then I recognized him.

"You didn't."

"All I did was phone. He did the rest."

Eve looked up to see Sam Dwyer standing before her. She got up tearfully and he folded her into his arms, holding her tightly for a time. They went out into the hallway to talk.

"When did you do that?"

"Right after Eve called me."

I gave his hand a squeeze. "Ed Brown, you are a class act."

A few moments later, Dr. Jurek joined them and I could see by his expression and Eve's look of relief that things had gone well. After he left, Sam and Eve came over to give us the news. Sam said he'd taken a week off work so he could help Eve after Suzanne got out of the hospital. We made arrangements to get together. Eve promising to call if anything changed.

I looked at Ed and he nodded his head. It was time for us to go.

Eve hugged Ed thanking him for calling Sam. "Enjoy dinner and we'll get together soon to talk."

I smiled. "It's just dinner."

She arched her eyebrows, laughed, and sent me on my way.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 Let's Give Them Something to Talk About**

We got out of St Mary's as quickly as we could, enjoying the afternoon sun and soft breeze on our faces as we walked towards Ed's car.

"Whew," Ed said, letting out a long breath. "I still don't like hospitals. No matter how much they decorate or update or how pretty the nurses are..." He extracted a cigarette from his pack, tapped it firm, lit it and inhaled, taking the smoke deep into his lungs, a sure sign that Suzanne's accident had bothered him more than he let on. "You sit and wait, and wait, and hope for the best and sometimes… sometimes you don't get what you want."

I knew what he was talking about. "But sometimes there are miracles. You were one."

His smile returned. "So were you. They called Father John in for you. Someone delivered."

"From St Peter's'? Why didn't anyone tell me he came?"

"The Chief didn't want you to know you were given Last Rites."

"Anything else you want to tell me about that hospital stay?" I asked.

"Nope, don't want to, at least not tonight." He stubbed out his cigarette with his heel, coughing slightly. "I need to quit these things."

"Dad said it was the hardest thing he ever did, quitting. Mom saw him do it. It's worth it you know."

"You don't smoke, do you?"

"I did for a time after mamita died. I was pretty angry then and tried a lot of things. I ran around the neighborhood with my cousins Beto and Noni. I don't know how Dad could bear it. He found a way though, or rather the Chief did. One night he put us all in the backseat of his cruiser, threatening to put us in juvie. He actually drove right up to the receiving door with us".

Ed grinned at the image of the Chief treating me like a delinquent; hauling me and my best friends in the back seat of his cruiser to Juvenile Hall. It helped explain in part the special relationship the Chief and I had. It wasn't all about police work between us. He was family.

"Chief must have really put the fear of God into you three."

"Considering that Beto and I are both cops. It might have just a bit."

"What happened to Noni?"

"Sister Veronica Mary Aurelia of the Poor Sisters of Clare, if you please."

"That's toeing the line."

"I quit smoking after a week in the hospital with pneumonia, freshman year of college. It was hard at the Academy; seems like all the rookies smoked. It was tempting to go back and light up."

"I should get the patch that just came out, it's supposed help stop you from smoking. So, are you hungry?" He picked up the butt, and tossed it into a trash can.

"Yes."

"Good. I know exactly where I want to take you."

"Not Giamatti's".

"Nope. Know exactly where we'll go", he said turning the key in the ignition.

Ten minutes later, we drove up in front of the _Balboa Café_ on Fillmore. The exterior was an old cinder block building that had been previously used as a gas station or other store. Its exterior had been just freshly whitewashed. We walked in to an interior that looked casually dressy. The barman greeted Ed as he began to mix a drink.

Ed nodded a greeting back.

We were seated in a more secluded part of the restaurant in a booth with a small table covered with a crisp white tablecloth, almost immediately a server came over.

"Hi Ed, haven't seen you for a while. How you been?"

"Hey Paulette, been good. Busy. This is Fran. "

Paulette smiled as she handed us menus. "Hey Fran, it's nice to meet you. Blake's got your Manhattan just about ready, Ed. What would you like to start with Fran?"

I chose iced tea. I was feeling nervous down to the knot in my stomach and if this was a date, didn't want to compound it by alcohol right off. Paulette went off to the bar, returning momentarily with our drinks, and took our orders.

"So, this is Ed Brown in his native environment?"

"Yup, this is the neighborhood. I moved into the apartment when I came back from service, haven't left since."

I nodded. "How far away is your place from here?" as I sipped.

"It's about three and a half blocks away, as the seagull flies. The old Greenwich Terrace. You've never been inside it all this time, have you? Would you like to see it? Maybe come back for a cup of coffee tonight?"

I knew exactly where his place was, I'd picked him up enough times over the years, but had never been inside, and here I was, acting as if I knew absolutely nothing about the man sitting across the table from me, when I knew almost everything about him, or so I thought."Yes, I'd like that."

We paused and drank. Baby steps.

Ed smiled. It was a great smile, warm, friendly and open. His brown eyes always lit up when he did. Too often though, I'd seen his eyes shine another way, hard and gleaming like cold steel. He could stare down any criminal in the city and there was never a smile on his face when he confronted the bad guys. Nights like this when we were alone and able to talk about things other than cases, were a rarity. He was relaxed and looked as if he was enjoying every moment of this. I watched as he took another appreciative sip of his Manhattan. I would too. The knot in my stomach began to loosen.

"How'd it go today?" He asked.

"I was going to ask you that same question"

"Me first."

It went better than I thought. I have an appointment for tomorrow afternoon."

"That's good. I hope it goes well."

I eased a bit. "I want to get through this."

"Like I said before, if I can help you in any way"

"Thanks, I appreciate it. You can do that by telling me about your day."

He gave me that smile again. It made me feel a little melted inside.

"I've got a great idea. If we really wanted to talk shop or therapy, we would have gone to Giamatti's. Tonight, let's talk about other things. I bet I've never told you about my favorite jazz and blues club down the street. I'd like to take you there after dinner. That is, if you like jazz or blues and you're not too tired."

"Taking me to the land of moonlight and romance are you?"

"Possibly."

We smiled, touching our glasses together, spending the remainder of dinner talking about things we were interested in, for me, it was art. I hadn't really had a chance to talk about what I had been doing in class and spoke of finding new energy to paint and hopefully sculpt again. Ed was passionate about his love of jazz and we both talked sports and our favorite teams. The conversation continued over coffee and dessert. I learned that although he loved a good steak and Mexican food, he had been slow to appreciate the Chief's chili. He did like to slow dance, though Eve had joked he seemed to have two left feet. We both liked sushi and baseball was much better than football. Eve dragged him to the ballet once and he really didn't like that, or opera, which she'd also taken him to. Classical music like Beethoven was ok. He came from East Kentucky and loved the mountains. His "ma" as he called her, taught in the small elementary Ed had gone to. His Pop had been a miner who encouraged his son to get an education so he wouldn't have to be in the coal mines all his life like he, his uncles, or his grandfather had. At 17, he'd lied about his age and enlisted in the Marines before he could be drafted. His love of hunting earned him awards as a marksman and sharpshooter before he got out of basic training. He had a natural affinity for police work and was assigned to the Military Police. He served two tours in Vietnam with distinction but had seen enough of the horrors and effects of war. He turned down the proffered promotion from the Marines. After his discharge from the Marines, he moved to San Francisco, a place he fell in love with after spending leave time from his assignment at nearby Camp Bridgeport.

He'd seen a posting for the SFPD, applied, and raced through the academy, catching the attention of Robert Ironside, the Chief of Detectives. Ironside was noted for the speed with which he ran through his Detective Sergeants. Some described it as eating them up. Ed had been duly warned. After patrolling for three years, the last two working for the Chief, getting credit for his time as a Military Policeman for the remaining two years of service time, and completing his degree in Criminal Justice, he took the Sergeant's test, passing easily. Ironside told him he wanted him to be his new Detective Sergeant. Ed had other opportunities, but knew what he was getting into and stayed with the Chief.

"I don't know how I did it in the beginning Fran. I hated chili, thought Eve was a rich snob, and Mark, well, he was a punk, hoodlum, a wannabe gangster. Then there was you, the woman I said once should _never_ call me if she needed help. Now, you're all my best friends and I couldn't think of working with anyone else in the department. And the Chief, the word impossible _,_ just begins to cover it, and that was before he was shot. You think he's got us burning candles at both ends now, you should have seen it when he was in the field with us. That man kept a pace that was frightening. We were exhausted just trying to keep up with him, with everything we were doing, I still don't know how I finished my bachelor's degree, I was so tired all the time. It was a struggle some days, but I wanted that piece of paper so bad. Ma and Pop were so proud of me when I got it.

From across the table I smiled and took his hand. We sat quietly like that for a while. I knew a lot of things about him from talking to Mark, the Chief, and now Eve, but I had never heard Ed talk so much about himself before. I appreciated the new trust given me.

After dinner, we walked down the street to a small bar called, appropriately enough, the _Blues Room_. The room was crowded but we found a couple of stools at the bar, sipped wine and listened to music. I could tell Ed really enjoyed the singer, a woman from Detroit named Anita Baker. She sang the standards: Gershwin, Ellington, Mercer, and others with true emotion and respect for the music. A small dance floor opened up. Ed led me out on it. He had said he now liked to dance. I did too, but didn't know how much he liked it or how well he could dance and he was good. He knew how to lead, something many of my dates didn't. He held me close as we danced, his fingers exploring the back of my blouse. I pressed in closer to him, putting my arms around his neck. He slid his hands down to the small of my back, splaying over my hips. It was electric. I could hear him hum softly as Baker sang:

 _"Somebody loves me, I wonder who?_

 _I wonder who, maybe it's you?"_

We returned to our seats. Ed sipped some Bourbon, I fingered my glass of red.

"I asked Diana to give me some lessons. She's a pretty good teacher."

"I can tell. You move like a regular Gene Kelly."

"Why, thank you ma'am. The next time we go out, you can take me to one of those North Shore dance clubs you like to go to."

I laughed. "Who told you about that?"

"Rod Peña tells me you dance a pretty mean bachata."

"Did my cousin Beto tell you that at the weekly Sergeant's poker game?

"I'm a detective. I do my homework, Paquita."

I shook my head, smiling. "So now I'm a case file, am I? _Paquita,_ I outgrew that name long ago. Seems you know everything about me."

"Nope, not everything, you're still a woman of mystery."

"Good, because I want you to be mystified." I replied dropping my voice as low as I could.

Baker began another song, the Gershwin brothers, _The Man I Love_.

"One more dance?" He asked, taking my hand as we went out on the floor again.

 ** _Someday she'll come along, the girl I love._ "** Ed sang in a pleasant light baritone, changing the words as we danced.

 ** _"Her smile will be a song, the girl I love, and when she comes my way, the girl I love._** ** _I'll do my best to make her stay._**

 ** _I'll look at her and smile, she'll understand, and in a little while, I'll take her hand, and though it seems absurd,_**

 ** _I know we both won't say a word."_**

His eyes had a look I hadn't seen before. I thought I knew all his expressions. This one was new, an invitation.

"Yes, I'd love to see to see your place."

"I can show you another night."

"You invited me out for dinner and jazz and extended the invitation to come visit your place for coffee, I believe."

He nodded. "I did".

"You can give me that cup of coffee before I leave, as promised."

We slowly strolled the few blocks from the _Blues Room_ to his place on Green St, holding hands, bodies touching. I felt an energy crackling about me I hadn't felt before. Ed lived on the top floor of an old row house called Greenwich Terrace with narrow flights of steps. My place was similar.

"How'd you get the furniture inside?" I asked as we paused on a landing.

"The freight elevator is in back of the old garage. That's now the coin laundry and storage area."

His apartment reflected his military days. It was neat, comfortable, and a very functional one bedroom apartment. Because he was on the third floor, the landlord had done what mine had done, built a small balcony deck that Ed used to grill and sometimes entertain guests, something he rarely had the time to do, he admitted. Inside, he'd also converted a closet into an office.

"I should have called you the weekend I did this. It needs painting and I had to do it without pizza, had beer though."

"I would have brought you a Benno's thin crust if you'd asked."

"Next project you can. Would you like that coffee now?"

"Yes, please." I sat on the couch and leaned back into it, watching as Ed used a Melitta ceramic cone and filter to brew the promised cup that would wake me up enough to get home tonight. He was trying to impress me if he was making coffee that way. So much had happened today, I was tired. I closed my eyes for a moment. I felt the couch cushion shift.

"Call me a taxi," I mumbled.

"I've called you many things over the years, but never a taxi." Ed joked.

I blinked open my eyes. "I better go. You've got to work tomorrow." I mumbled.

"I called in."

I was shocked awake. "You never call in."

"I have new priorities."

He slid closer to me putting his arm around me. He looked into my eyes. "I have been trying to tell you this for awhile now. Stop pushing me away."

I wasn't ready for that declaration. A missing puzzle piece slid into my foggy brain. I got up from the couch, Ed rising with me.

"It was you... you said that to me that night."

"Yes"

"You bastard! How dare you!" I swung at him.

He rolled with the punch, so that my fist bounced off his shoulder. Grabbing my wrists, he pulled me close to him. "I got a call from one of the beat cops that night. He'd seen you walk into Geary Street Liquors. He was going to bust you for public drunkenness."

"He should have."

"He recognized you from your picture in the write up in the union paper about the assault and thought you needed a friend, not a jail cell. He called me. I came, and he was right. You needed a friend badly and I was it. I got you home and then did the only thing I could do, just be there for you until you could sleep. Then I left."

It was Ed I'd had the argument with that night, not my mother. I felt humiliated, my face flushing.

"I have to go." His hands kept hold of my wrists.

Tears wet my eyes as I tried to remove myself from Ed's grasp.

"Stay" he said, pulling me tighter to him. "Te amo".

'Ed loved me?' He tangled his fingers in my hair, then grasped it as he kissed me hard. I met the kiss with equal force, touching features I'd known from the first day we'd met. I felt him pull my blouse out from my skirt, slipping his hands under it, exploring, my bra somehow magically loosened. I felt the zipper of my skirt slide down, the material pooling on the floor. My head arched back and he kissed my neck repeatedly, lingering as he heard me gasp with pleasure. My fingers found the buttons of his shirt.


	11. Chapter 11

**What Do You Do When You Fall In Love?**

It was the deepest, most satisfying, most refreshing sleep I'd had in months. That is when I slept. I smiled at the memories of making love with Ed. The dreams I'd had were all good. No demons dared visit me. I woke up to bright sunlight streaming through the window. The mattress moved and I realized Ed had gotten up. Closing my eyes and feigning sleep, I rolled over on my side away from him. I suddenly felt shy. Could someone my age feel like a kid who'd given it up on prom night? I heard him shut the bedroom door behind him then I heard another door closing, and the shower running, followed by the sound of the bathroom door opening and Ed humming. I found my clothes, dressed, and ran fingers through my hair, wanting to look as presentable as I could after the previous night.

Ed was sitting out on the back porch with a cup of coffee and the _Chronicle_. "Damn Righetti", he said as a way of greeting, when I came out. "Blew another one in the ninth last night. We're not going to the Series if he can't start closing games. Why can't the Giants trade him for someone decent?"

I bent down and over, mussing his hair and kissing his forehead. "Morning". Sitting in the chair across from him, I took the arts section.

"Did you get coffee?"

"No"

"I need some more." He got up, taking his mug in and returned with a large mug for me. He placed it on the table in front of me, kissing me on the cheek as he did so. I sipped it. It was good, really good coffee. I smiled in approval.

"So you learned to make coffee while I've been away."

"Well, I did get a Melitta, You saw that last night. I made your "Uncle" Phil, teach me to make a really good cup of coffee. I told him you'd give him a ticket when you came back if he didn't do it. Because you know, the Chief won't make coffee, you weren't there to make it, everybody complained about mine and well, Mark … well, you know."

I grimaced, then we both laughed. Mark could not make coffee, not even a cup of instant. We joked that his cooking skills were so limited he'd burn water. When I joined the team, Mark happily turned the kitchen over to me. To his credit, he knew great places to get cheap, good food on stakeouts and most importantly he had the phone numbers of the Chief's favorite take out places.

"You sleep ok?"

"Don't think I've slept that well in a long time."

He looked pleased. "I'm glad."

"You?"

"Very well".

We sat quietly for a time with the paper and coffee. It felt right.

"I have towels and stuff, if you want to take a shower and would you like some breakfast?"

"A shower sounds like a good idea. You paid for dinner, I'll treat for breakfast."

"I know a little place close by, called the Galley. We can get in and out quickly and it has really good food. Best of all, it's affordable. And…I'm good friends with the chef."

The hot water felt good and minutes later I was clean, dressed, and back in the kitchen laughing at Ed. "Good friends with the chef".

"I make a mean omelet". He had a bowl on the counter and was taking eggs, bacon, cheese and veggies out of his refrigerator.

"I'll just bet you do."

"C'mon, give me a hand".

He put me to work chopping vegetables and shredding cheese. I enjoyed the time we were spending together doing something as simple as making breakfast and I could tell he was too. While he beat eggs, added seasonings, and started cooking them in the pan, I fried bacon, kept coffee mugs filled and made toast.

We ate standing at the counter.

"Omelets" Ed began, pausing to fork a bite into his mouth, "are only good when they're hot. Best place to eat them is at the counter right out of the pan."

I nodded my agreement. We finished eating and I ran a sink full of soapy water and washed and rinsed while Ed dried and put the dishes away.

"Did you think this would ever happen?" He asked as he found another opportunity to kiss me.

"My washing your dishes at your place?" I laughed, blowing some bubbles in his direction.

"No, this." He lifted up my damp hair and nuzzled my neck. "It feels good".

"It does."

"What do you want to do before your appointment today?" Ed asked.

"We could explore your neighborhood." I suggested.

Smiling, he eyed the bedroom door. "Or we could…"

"We could, but I've just eaten more for breakfast than I have in quite a while and I'd be sleepy."

"At 9 am?"

"Yes, at 9 am."

Ed took a deep breath then released it "Hmmmm. A walk would be good then."

"Unless you run."

"Lady, I am a United States Marine and Detective Sergeant in the SFPD. Of course I run. How far can you run?"

"A good run for me used to be ten, maybe twelve or fifteen miles. You?"

"About the same. Are you up for a run today? I know exactly where I want to take you.

"Haven't run since... well, you know, and I don't have any gear."

"S'ok, we'll take it slow and easy. We'll shoot for five miles total. If you need to, you can walk as much as you need. We'll make a stop and get you some running gear."

I felt like I couldn't refuse him. I hadn't been running, too many other things to deal with, like recovery. But here he was offering a friendly run. I'd told Dr. Parkman I wasn't going to refuse the help of friends any more.

"Let's go". I told him "Take me to your secret spot."

We walked back to the Balboa Cafe to get Ed's car, then made a stop at a nearby sporting goods shop where I picked up the basics, shorts, a tee, socks, and shoes, and a water bottle. They were nice enough to let me change in the store after I told the salesman I was heading out for a run. San Francisco is like that. A short time later, Ed parked his car at Dynamo Donuts. Next to it was the Golden Gate Promenade, a favorite place to bike, walk and run for visitors and San Franciscans alike. The trail lay along the Bay and held spectacular views.

"I thought we'd run to Fort Point and back. It's about 5 miles altogether. Break your shoes in easy." He grinned.

Not just my shoes, I thought, as I stretched protesting hamstrings, quads, and shins before starting.

Fort Point dated back to the Civil War, when the new state of California was concerned that Confederate raiders might just try to attack the city. It was at the base of the Golden Gate Bridge and the trail was surprisingly not crowded this morning. Ed kept a slow but consistent pace for me and at first, my muscles screamed in agony for my making them do this and I reminded myself that before the attack, I had made plans to run the SFPD Half Marathon in November. Training had to start sometime. Finally I could see Torpedo Wharf on my right. We were almost there.

"C'mon, run out there with me!" Ed shouted.

I followed him out there and we took a break sitting on a bench while watching sail boats fly along the shore.

"You doing ok?" He asked.

"Better than I thought. I'll pay for it tonight though." I said, after taking a long drink from my water bottle.

"Hmm, I see someone who needs a massage tonight and I know the perfect masseuse."

"Do they make house calls?"

"I believe this one does."

"You'll have to give me their number."

"Unlisted but I can make arrangements for him to come over to your place."

"Him".

"Works cheaply. Charges the cost of dinner and a bottle of wine."

"Sounds very affordable."

He looked at his watch. "C'mon we've got another half mile to the fort and then it's back to the car. You can't be late for your appointment."

We got up, stretched and began running again. By the time we got there, the Golden Gate Bridge looked spectacular in the sun as it soared over Fort Point. We spent a short time there admiring it then turned around to run back to the car. The way back was quicker and warmer and I was beginning to feel more stretched out. I was running more easily. We were both sweaty from the run by the time we got back to the Galaxie.

Jealously, I watched as Ed took off his shirt and turned into the wind to dry off. I could see the scarring from his back surgery. Two and a half years ago, he'd been shot by a hitman in Los Angeles, after Frank Harmon, the defendant, became afraid Ed had discovered the role played by his attorney, Phil MacGiver, and his wife, Polly, in laundering his drug money would be disclosed. Ed didn't realize he knew the depth of MacGiver's connection to Harmon, until about a half hour before his surgery.

I hadn't seen the shooting, but I'd been the first to see the aftermath. It was one of those times it was hard to keep my composure and act like a cop. He and Mark had been sitting on the railing of our hotel balcony. I was sitting at the patio table next to the Chief. We were relaxed, off guard, celebrating the end of Ed's testimony, and the conclusion of a hard case, so we thought. As was his wont, the Chief was expressing his doubts about the case when he asked me for a splash more club soda for his bourbon. I went inside to get a new bottle, the last thing I remembered before the nightmare began, was Mark jovially repeating the Chief's, "As long as it's Mexican", as to where we were going for dinner that night. In the time it took me to find a bottle opener, Ricky Wells targeted his M21 on Ed from the office building across from our hotel shooting three times, hitting Ed with the last two bullets, knocking him off the balcony. After the shooting, I picked myself off the floor of the hotel room, brushing glass shards from the dress I'd worn to court that day. First thing was to check on the Chief. He was fine. Stupidly I blurted. "What happened?"

I knew what had happened. We'd been shot at by a high powered rifle. Mark was fine, the Chief was fine, but Ed.

"Where's Ed? Where is he?"

Mark and I rushed to the rail where he last was. I looked down. Ed lay on the ground like a doll that had been flung angrily by its owner. He looked broken, and worse, lifeless.

"Oh my God, no" I half sobbed.

Mark gave me a quick comforting squeeze and we bolted from the room. Where Ed was lying, was not just hotel grass anymore, but a crime scene and please God, not a murder scene. The image of Ed on the ground had been seared in my brain forever. I'd been helpless to do anything for him during those first hours, except donate a pint of blood. The Craig Institute had saved his back with a very sophisticated and experimental, surgical technique, invented by Dr. William Ritter. Of course, like love, this surgery did not run smoothly. Dr. Ritter's daughter, Jan, was kidnapped by Wells. He threatened to kill her if the surgery wasn't stopped. Fortunately, we saved the girl and Ed's surgery was successful. After the surgery, I'd spent every weekend I could in LA, while Ed was recovering, taking him off hospital grounds for ball games and better food. The surgery had been so successful that Ed moved now as if he'd never fallen off a balcony.

He'd seen my own physical scars last night too. He saw where they'd taken my spleen out. We'd joked that if we ever caught a nasty cold, we could go into isolation together because of our now slightly compromised immune systems. Somewhat reluctantly I'd shown him the vertical scar that ran from the top of my skull to just above my left ear. The spot where Ted Glenville had repeatedly kicked me. Ed had touched it, kissed it gently and told me how grateful he was to the doctors at San Francisco General who had saved me. Strange how we owed our lives to doctors.

Ed put his shirt back on and turned to face me. "How do you feel?"

"Other than the fact you could dry the sweat off after your run and I couldn't?" I laughed.

He opened the car and took a towel out. "Sorry."

I took the proffered towel, splashed some water from my bottle over my neck and face, and dried off. We got back in the car and Ed drove me back to my place. It was almost noon when he got there. I invited him in for lunch.

I took a shower that Ed volunteered to "help" me through. I declined his offer, reluctantly, then changed into work clothes. Two professional women were going to talk to one another, though one woman was a little more confused than the other. When I came out of the bedroom, Ed took a shower and while he was washing up, I made lunch and taking it out to the deck. After lunch, Ed offered to drive me to my appointment. I declined. A lot had happened and I needed a little time to myself. Ed understood and we agreed to meet for dinner about seven, this time at one of my favorite places. I walked him to the door and he left only after successfully firing up my hormones once more with a last lingering kiss before he closed the door behind him.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12 Goldbach's Second Conjecture**

It was the same procedure as before. Walk in. Sit down. Wait. Enter the office. Bare your soul. I wonder how Janet Parkman would feel knowing that after yesterday's appointment, I'd ended the day in bed with Ed. If yesterday was a clue, she would be nonjudgmental, but then the questions would start. I had decided that she was the kind of woman to whom the pauses between the words were as important as the content of the words said. I wondered if I would end up sobbing my way through a box of tissue like yesterday. Almost immediately on coming in to her office I told her, sparing no detail. I wanted her to know everything. How he'd picked me up from the appointment, Suzanne's surgery; our going to dinner at one of his favorite places, talking for hours about everything, followed by the Blues Room, how we'd danced to the songs of George Gershwin. Going back to his apartment and …

She had been very nonjudgmental. Listening, plying her fingers, elbows on her desk, she carefully weighed each word I said. "And are you feeling any morning after remorse?" She asked.

"No. Am I wondering what will happen next? Yes. When I go back to work, will I always worry about him being in danger? I already do now. Will he worry about me? I know he will. Will it keep us from working together? I hope not. He's the best partner I've ever worked with. I don't want a new partner or assignment. But I've fallen in love with him and it's returned."

"Does that make you feel you don't have to deal with anything else, now that you have this man in your life? He sounds like he's very strong, a knight in shining armor almost, based on your description."

"Ed is one of the strongest people I've ever met. I need to deal with me all the more because I don't want to be dependent on him. If this relationship is going to work, I have to be independent, be a partner, and not the damsel in distress." I replied.

She nodded, giving me the look of a teacher whose prize student had just solved Goldbach's Conjecture, one of those unsolved math proofs that filled up blackboards and drove mathematicians to drink. Ed and I would be ok, whatever happened.

She smiled "Then let's talk instead about the night Ted Glenville followed you out to your car."

Eve had warned me that working with Janet Parkman would not be easy and by the time the session was finished, so was I. I was exhausted, depressed, furious, and feeling totally incapable of doing anything. She asked me to stop by the next day to talk once I'd had the opportunity to reflect on this emotional soup. Was this progress or was I really a worse mess than I'd thought?

We began by going over in excruciating minute detail that night everything changed.

"When you first woke up after the assault, how did you feel?"

"Scared for starters. I woke up and couldn't remember what happened; why I was in the hospital, all of that. I find out what happened and then I'm constantly badgered for information. All I can say is 'I can't remember!' It was tearing me apart inside. However, that wasn't an acceptable answer, my body was a crime scene, and my brain is the star witness, and Robert Ironside's the investigating officer, and all I really wanted to forget the little else I knew and just bury it deeper than a dog could bury a bone. I'm repeatedly told by well-meaning persons how lucky I was that what happened to Grace Kim and Carole Mapes didn't happen to you. But I knew that I should be dead, just like they were."

Janet Parkman began phrasing a question. I knew what question she was going to ask. I got up and began to pace her office.

"How do you think I felt?" I raised my voice. "Even more frightened, but I couldn't show anyone that. I had to be tough. I worked for Ironside. I had to help solve the case, no matter what the cost. Mark and Ed spooked Ted Glenville and he came back and tried to kill me again, even with a cop outside my door, and I can't do one damn thing to help. It made me wonder more why I'm still alive and what did I really know about that night. What can't I remember? The Chief keeps asking the same questions. It's easier now for him, because now he's set up a command station outside my hospital room with more than one cop on protection detail when he's not there to protect me. But he won't tell me that. He won't tell anyone how he feels about failing to protect me. That's not Robert Ironside's style. He won't tell me that Glenville killed Vivian Dorsey the exact same way I was supposed to die. I don't hear that from him, I get to hear that from the uniforms on protection detail. They would pop in from time to time to say hello and make sure I was still among the living. You must remember how we all talked on protection duty. Protection duty isn't glamorous, it's boring. Gossip is the only thing that passes the time. But it all got too much for me and in the middle of round 896 of questioning; my brain decides to check out. The doctors won't let me do that, so when I wake up from a long nap, I find out that my brain had been cut into to save my life and then I discover that my body refuses to do what I want it to do? I'm reliant on strangers for the most basic things. Worse, I remember even less than before and I couldn't say what I wanted to these strangers who unintentionally treated me like a baby because of the aphasia. How would you feel about that Dr Parkman? What would you have done if you'd been me?" The angry bone I'd thought was buried was working its way to the surface.

She pressed on ignoring my increasing anger. "After you were released from rehab; you engaged in certain behaviors knowing you could be arrested if a cop saw you drunk or under the influence? Did you want to lose your job?"

My answers became more furious and sarcastic. I could feel the anger grab my heart, squeeze it tight, then push upwards trying to choke me. I didn't give the proverbial rat's ass if my answers or the emotion behind them helped or hindered me. My stream of consciousness was no longer a quiet brook. It had become a raging river, and totally out of my control. Finally the long held fury geysered out of my unconscious mind as though I'd just had the Heimlich maneuver performed on me.

"I didn't care anymore. I just didn't give a damn."

Janet Parkman waited for my angry storm to pass, then mercifully stopped asking questions, instead she gave me three tests, 'evaluation tools', she'd called them. One was ten simple questions, yes or no. No room to explain or rationalize, just respond.

Upsetting thoughts?

 _Oh God, yes._

Memories about the event that came into my mind unbidden?

 _All the time_.

Bad dreams?

 _Uh huh._

Racing heart, dizziness, stomach churning?

 _Three for three here._

Guilty feelings about what happened?

 _I was a trained professional police officer. **This never should have happened**. **It was my** **fault that it had.**_

Avoidance of people and places associated with the event _?_

 _Definitely_. I'd not gone near either City College or 750 Kearney since the assault.

Emotional numbness? Loss of interest in people or activities?

 _Until last night, they both had been resounding affirmatives._

Lack of sleep or more sleep than I was accustomed to?

 _More former than latter. I lived on caffeine._

Unexplained anger or sadness?

 _Right now would be a very good example._

Feeling of living on edge?

 _Until recently, I'd contemplated the abyss every day._

I marked the sheet quickly and gave it back to her. She handed me the next sheet, an anxiety scale. It was short. I responded to each item based on the amount of discomfort I felt. It was all about what drove me every day, living in fear.

The fear of losing control...

 _Check._

Feeling terrified; unable to relax; fear of the worst happening.

 _Big_ _check mark here._

Feeling that I was being choked;

 _Was that figurative or literal choking?_ I'd experienced both.

Was I scared, nervous?

 _Yes._ I wouldn't trust my own shadow.

Fear of dying?

I coded once the first night, they called Fr John for me, and the second time, they cut into my brain. I shouldn't be afraid of not coming back. I'd done it.

 _Death terrified me and at the same time, I tried to welcome it after I'd gone home._

Coping mechanisms?

 _Oh my yes._ Until recently, it would have been a fistful of prescribed medications accompanied by a nice Cabernet Sauvignon, chardonnay, bourbon, or vodka, depending on my mood or what was available, thank you.

That was followed by one last scale for depression, with similar questions and length. I had a feeling what the results might be. I was sure I had aced all three tests. I could hear slot machine bells go off in my brain, announcing I'd hit the psychological jackpot.

Dr. Parkman totaled the scores separately. "Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked.

I felt my stomach flip. It didn't sound good what she was going to tell me. I accepted her offer and she plugged in a small electric pot she kept on a nearby counter. We were quiet as the water heated.

"Thank you first for your honesty in responding to my first questions. She got up, took tea and mugs out of a cabinet, measured the tea, dumped it in a teapot and poured boiling water in it, letting it steep for a while.

"You'd be surprised how people try to convince me they're fine, so why do they waste their money and my time? You probably know this already, but your test results confirm it. You have post- traumatic stress disorder, PTSD. I wanted to see you less in control of yourself, hence the early questions," she began after straining the liquid into the mugs. She came around to sit in the chair opposite the one I was in, handing me my mug.

She sipped tea, contemplating how to talk about my diagnosis. "Let me explain what PTSD means based on the information you've given me. Normally, you dealt with stress and what's called fight or flight fairly successfully. That's the body's and the brain's natural ability to decide what to do in stressful situations. Even the night you were attacked, from what you've told me, you were making good decisions before the attack. Your car was in a lighted section of the parking lot. You had your weapon available and you were paying attention to your surroundings. When he attacked you, you did all that your training allowed for. Your training didn't cover being beaten into unconsciousness or any of the other things he did to you. There's no way it could. You were dealing with a psychopath. He was going to find you and kill you one way or another." She drank more tea. "I know what you're thinking. What the hell does this woman know about it other than reading textbooks or running tests or listening to her patients cry or scream the anger out."

I flushed; embarrassed she had caught me thinking that way.

"Fran, I was a cop too. I was in similar situations. I had friends in even scarier situations. I saw what happened to them. Some didn't get out alive. Instead, they fell into a bottle of booze, or a pill bottle, or a grave. That's the reason I went into this business. To help the people I worked with. You got out alive. You got Ted Glenville. He can't hurt anyone any more.

"Until I get the phone call telling me they let the bastard out of Napa" I said bitterly. I paused. There, I'd said it, my worst nightmare, now out in the open. I remember how I felt inside when Eve said that at Colibri.

"In your case, Fran, the PTSD along with the anxiety, depression, the recovery from your injuries, having to go to a rehab center instead of going home to recuperate, the guilt because you lived instead of those other women. That has you thinking you're that character from Peanuts, the one with the dark cloud over his head all the time. If something bad is going to happen, you're first in line. Right now, you're in panic mode all the time. Your flight or fight switch is stuck right now. Life, for wont of another word, sucks, all the time, no exceptions and no escape for you. Let me make this very clear. You have to start accepting that it wasn't your day to die; not that night in the parking lot, not the day he put the pillow over your face, and not the day the aneurysm blew. Those weren't your days to die. You've been stripped down to the bare wires. You were made totally vulnerable to everything and everyone. This will always be part of you, the PTSD, but let's work on making it not as upfront."

We finished our tea in silence. I heard the chime. Our time was done. We'd talk tomorrow. I should rest, do something pleasant, something good, to, and for, myself, was her advice to me as I left.

I walked outside into the sunshine. I'd made progress, hadn't I? In just two sessions, I had a label, a disorder. Why did I feel like there was a hive of bees swarming about me? There across the street resting against the driver's side door, just like yesterday, was Ed. I wasn't expecting him. I was going to walk home, and after the session I'd had with Janet Parkman, I wasn't a very civil person. I needed that walk. In fact, I wouldn't even have picked me up from this appointment based on how I was acting. I could very well have been politely described as bitchy.

"I still have most of today off. I thought maybe we could do something together?" He said smiling

Damnit. We'd agreed on seven. That would have given me time to settle down. Instead, there he was, waiting.

"Thought I wasn't going to see you until tonight?" I snapped.

"Thought you could use a ride to your place."

"Thanks," I got in the passenger seat.

"So if you don't want to go home, where do you want to go?"

"I don't care. My place I guess."

Ed blew out air from between pursed lips. "Whew. You are not a happy camper."

"What gave it away?"

"Rough session?"

"Yeah."

He didn't ask for any details. "Ok, my day off has been fun, but let's go blow off some steam. You are in danger of a serious eruption. Tell me where you want to go. It's your choice. Bumper cars, amusement park, roller coasters, golf range, batting cages, tennis courts, boxing ring, smashing china at your place, just tell me. "

I was thinking about the imagery that had come up when while talking with Dr. Parkman. She had said I wasn't responsible for what had happened that night, but that I needed to stop acting like a victim. But I realized it was comfortable. I didn't have to do anything. In a month, I could go before the BooSoo therapist and get my papers stamped and I'd be done. No more Sergeant Fran Belding. Then Eve's reminder that one day, I'd get the phone call from Napa with the sympathetic person from Victim's Rights telling me that Theodore Robert Glenville was no longer considered a danger to himself or others, and the State of California would be releasing him into the general population. Then where would I be? I remembered too that I had committed to a life plan and that part of that plan included the man sitting next to me. He'd suggested blowing off some steam. I knew what I needed to do.

"First stop the department range. Then we can do something more pleasant like bumper cars," I said.

"Do you need your...?" Ed began; pausing when I opened my bag, revealing the gleaming gunmetal of the department issued Smith and Wesson to him.

"Ok, let's go shoot some targets." He turned the key in the ignition, the car roaring to life and we took off down the street.

Pulling into the parking lot of the range, Ed slipped the Galaxie into park and took his S&W out of the gun safe he had installed in his car, locking the box after him.

"So you've had your gun with you every time you've been somewhere?"

"Departmental policy, remember?" I said snappishly.

"Or fear of being attacked and unprepared."

I glared at him. The look he gave me back indicated he knew the correct answer. We were both right. I knew the department rule but he knew the deeper reason: I was scared. Little lady with a big gun. Should fix everything, right? Make it all better? Guns were supposed to be phallic though. That's what Freud thought, right? Well, no one's going to mess with me when I have Mr Smith and Mr Wesson with me. In fact, someone had messed with me and the gun had been no help at all.

We walked into the cool dark building and signed into the range, saying hello to Frank Merchant, the firing officer. We slipped on yellow shooting glasses and donned ear protection. Each of us took a booth and loaded our guns with blanks, waiting for our three targets each to drop down. One magazine and done. After we were finished, Frank sent them our way. Ed's shots were precise, center of mass, a textbook example of how to do it. Mine weren't bad, but I needed to do some more practice before I took Ed on in a shooting competition.

"Not bad," he said as way of compliment.

We repeated the exercise several times before Ed indicated he'd had all the practice he wanted.

"I need to do this again."

He handed me the blanks. "Load up. I'll watch; see what's going on with your technique."

Frank dropped the target. Suddenly the paper took on a form and personality. I knew who I was shooting at. I emptied the magazine. Finished, I dropped the gun on the counter and shuddered. Ed knew what was going on, He wrapped his arms around me as we dropped to our knees in the booth. I broke into sobs.

"It's ok Fran." He whispered into my hair. "We've all done it. You did what you wanted to do, needed to do. You killed the bastard who tried to kill you."

He held me there for an eternity. Then we broke apart. "I want to see the target."

"You'll know what it'll show."

"Show me the bloody target. Now!"

"Frank" Ed shouted. "Send it over". The target moved slowly towards us. It showed exactly what I'd done to Ted Glenville.

"Fran, you didn't kill him." His voice was quiet with amazement.

I looked with satisfaction, there were ten holes neatly placed exactly where I wanted, three in each shoulder. "I decided after last night, if I killed him, that would make me no better than him. He's never going to see light of day outside of the state hospital again, not if I can help it. I'll be there every year for Grace, Carole, Vivian and myself."

He put his arm around me as we walked out of the booth and back to his car. "Like I said, I just think I know you and then you do something absolutely amazing."

I reached up and kissed him. "It's all because I have people like you around, holding me to higher standards."

We got in the car.

"I want to tell you about today. An awful lot happened."

He slid the shifter into reverse. "Start at the beginning."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13 Time Flies**

It was mid-September, the kids were back in school, and the Giants definitely out of World Series contention again. Ed and I debated going across the bay to see the Oakland A's take on the Cincinnati Reds when the World Series started, but we decided it just wouldn't be the same. The Niners, with Joe Montana at quarterback and Jerry Rice leading the receivers, showed promise. We bought tickets and went to the first two games, becoming fans. All part of the new routine, what I'd previously called Plan B. My focus was on getting healthy, regardless of whether I was going back to work or not. To do that, I continued going to Benton Liang's morning Tai Chi group, kept running, joined a gym to get more of my strength back, painted, and saw Janet Parkman twice a week. I spent time with Ed whenever his schedule allowed us to. By the end of each day, I was tired, but I was feeling better.

I was at Ed's when the phone rang. I'd agreed to paint his closet office. He wanted Marine blue, like his old dress uniform. Dark Marine dress blue, he said. It was a clean color, he argued with me, finally compromising that it be, a lighter" Marine blue, after I repeatedly pointed out that if he wanted to be able to see things without the light constantly on, it couldn't be dark blue. The day I was going to paint, Ed was working, and I had nothing scheduled until the late afternoon when I saw Dr. Parkman. I let the call go to message.

It was Eve.

"Hey Fran, since I can't find you at home, I'm trying here. Give me a call, ok? I'm back in town with Suzanne. She's got a follow up for a new cast. Can we get together anytime soon? I'll be here through next Tuesday. Sam's coming for the wedding Saturday. Mother and Daddy want you over for dinner soon. I want to talk to you. Catch up on what's going on. Call me, will you?"

I called her back immediately, inviting her over and telling her to bring paint clothes. She couldn't come to paint, because she'd taken Suzanne to Dr. Jurek's that morning. But she'd stop by for a quick visit in a couple of hours, once she got Suzanne settled from having had the arm examined and a new cast put on. Her arm was healing nicely and Eve was optimistic that there would be a full recovery.

"You know you're going to have to paint it again." She laughed. "Dr. Jurek's technician sliced George right in half. Stem to stern. She's devastated."

I grinned, thinking about poor Curious George being split in half and the poor technician having to deal with the wrath of Suzanne Dwyer.

"Put her on, will you".

"Tia" she wailed, using her newest word in Spanish. "They gave me a new cast. It's naaykid." She said drawing out the word. "They threw George away. I love George. I wan' George back!"

I assured her I'd be over that evening to put a new Curious George on her cast. That seemed to calm her.

"Well, whatever her " _Tia_ " Fran promised, seemed to work, so thank you." Eve said when she was back on the phone.

"She promised her favorite _sobrina_ that she'd get a new George tonight. Is it alright if I stop by after dinner to see my "niece" and your parents? Don't know what Ed's up to tonight. He said he'd be working late, as usual."

"Of course "Auntie". I'll see you soon."

I hung up and went to the kitchen to see if Ed had any lunch makings in the fridge. Of course he didn't. The man lived on fast food and ate most of his dinners out or at the Chief's, as did Mark and I. His cholesterol must be terrible. Mark's and mine for that matter too, because of those dining habits. I'd have to make a run to the nearby market and get some things. Ed and I might be living on love, but we needed to lunch on more than Anchor Stream and Sierra Nevada. I checked myself in the mirror before I went out. I opened the door. There he was.

"Hello Fran," he said, looking up from his wheelchair, just ready to knock.

"Chief...I was just going out to the market, but come in...please." I let out a deep breath. I waved him in.

He pushed his chair inside the apartment.

"Is Mark with you?"

"No, I wanted an opportunity to talk with you."

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes. Coffee would be good."

I walked into the galley, took down the coffee and filters, poured water in the reservoir, filled the dispenser with coffee, turned it on to drip and took two mugs off the rack.

"You seem to be getting used to Ed's place." He said.

"Yes, I guess so. How's Katherine? All set for the wedding?" Filling the mugs with the hot brew, I brought them out and handed one to the Chief.

"She's fine and all set for her big day."

I sat down on the couch next to him. We sipped coffee quietly for a time. "How have you been Chief? You look good." I finally said.

"I'm fine; you look good. It's been very busy at the office, Katherine and I have planned the wedding. I know you're going because Ed RSVP'd with a guest, then told me he was taking you. I wonder if I'll ever see you at the ranch other than when I get married. Then there's the office. I could definitely use your help there. My sergeant has a loopy grin on his face and has asked for leave time for a vacation in December. Something about Hawaii. Sun, sand and surf. Unusual for the Sergeant. Do you know anything about that? I don't suppose you'll be wanting some time off then? Have we exhausted the social chit chat?"

"Yes sir."

"Good." He replied. "Fran" he said, breaking my name into the two syllables as he often did, especially when he was thinking about what to say next. "We haven't talked for a while."

"Not since you gave me my sergeant's stripes and announced your engagement. That was quite a night", I said.

"I want to know why you pushed us away. In particular, me."

I got up. "More coffee?"

"I'm fine and you're dancing away from this."

I went to the coffee pot and topped off my mug. Returning to my place on the couch, I sipped and realized that Eve knew, Janet Parkman knew and Ed knew, especially those nights Ted Glenville showed up to haunt my sleep. Thank God, they were becoming fewer and fewer. But I'd deliberately left the Chief out. I'd been that embarrassed by my feeling I'd let him down and at the same time, never letting him deal with his feelings about what happened to me. Whether he felt guilty about what had happened to me.

"Only dancing I'm going to do is at your wedding. So let me tell you a story Chief," I paused to breathe. "About a woman who had her life in front of her, took one hell of a detour and almost lost her way." I lost track of the time as I told him everything.

"But what cost to you and me, Fran?"

I looked at him. He'd asked the question he'd wanted to ask me for so long. I let out a breath I didn't think I'd been holding. I got up and went over to him, crouching down on my haunches so he could see my face. He held my hands the way he had so often done when he wanted to create that bond with me.

"When I woke up in the hospital the first time, I remember the look on your face. You looked terrible, as if you had been the one who found me lying broken on the parking lot pavement and when you were pushing me to remember what I needed to tell you about the case, each time you looked more upset, almost as if you were afraid of what would happen if you pushed too hard. And then, that day in my room after Ted Glenville tried to kill me. You looked as if you'd completely failed me. Two hours later, my life changed forever. It wasn't your fault."

The Chief was uncharacteristically quiet. I got up and went over for more coffee for us. I drank it slowly.

"Chief, I begged you to take this case on. I pleaded with you to let me investigate it. Two women had been raped and murdered. You didn't cause the assault, or the aneurysm and you certainly didn't cause it to burst. I know that now. It didn't kill me but you're right, I'm not the same woman I was before I went to get my car that night at City College. I have post-traumatic stress disorder. When I got out of rehab, I couldn't deal with what had happened. So I tried to make myself so numb; I wouldn't give a damn if anything happened. Most importantly, I felt so damaged that I was afraid to let you, Mark and Ed see me. That's why I kept you away from me during rehab. I was ashamed of what I thought you'd think. It's crazy, but that's what I believed. The PTSD, it's going to be part of me forever. And I have to make sure that if I'm going to come back, it won't keep me from doing my job. I need to be able to feel that I have your backs."

He nodded. "Your exact words to me young lady, were "Chief, I'm there already. Let me ask a few questions for you." Three days later, Ed is taking me to the blasted hospital at midnight because you'd been beaten, and the four of us are donating blood for you because that's the only damn thing we can do, other than pray, and we were doing a lot of that as well."

"But you helped me remember the missing link. The case wouldn't have been solved if I hadn't remembered".

We paused. I knew the Chief had more to say

"Fran, I met with Ted Glenville at Napa the other day. He called me. Wanted to meet. Talk about what happened. One thing I'm convinced of is that Vivian Dorsey didn't die because of what you did or didn't do. He had a list starting with the two girls he murdered.

I stood up. "Their names were Grace Kim and Carole Mapes, not the two girls."

"After the first girl, erm, I mean, Miss Kim, died, that's when Vivian Dorsey first became suspicious. She noted the same behavior from Glenville following the death of Miss Mapes. She noted a lack of concern from him when you were beaten, even though he showed up at the hospital that night with your classmates. She became worried because after your second assault, he became highly agitated, and very volatile. She felt she couldn't control him anymore."

"Why did you go see him?" I asked, even though he'd already given a reason.

"Because he asked me to." He motioned me to sit down.

That would be the Chief, always trying to find out every scrap of information to understand the mind of a killer.

"What else did he say?" I sat down.

"Your name was on his list. He felt you were too close to finding him out, and he wants to see you."

"He told you that?"

"Yes, there's something he wants to say to you."

"What did you tell him?"

"I couldn't order you to do it. It would be your decision."

I felt a long exhale. I hadn't realized I'd been holding the breath that long.

"If I were to go, would you come with me?"

"Yes. I would."

I got a call from Boo Soo the other day." I said, changing the subject. "The last report from Dr. Parkman was encouraging, but they're not letting me go back, if I do decide that, until October 30. They want to make sure I've been free for four months without medication. I'm not taking anything now. The last time I saw Dr. Thompson, well, he doesn't want to see me for six months. He's very happy with his work, and is ok I'm not taking meds. I'm not happy it's been delayed, but they're paying me to stay home."

"What are you doing with your time?"

I caught the Chief up on what I was doing. He seemed pleased.

"What about you and Ed?"

I flushed.

"Are you and my sergeant canoodling?"

"Canoodling?" I laughed.

"You know what I mean Fran."

"That's a little personal, don't you think Chief?" I said, trying to resist the smile forming on my face.

"The evidence is clear that you and Ed are together". He was looking into the bedroom where my clothes hung neatly from a door hook.

"I love him Chief. I think I've been in love with him for a long time. He feels the same about me. We're spending time together when we can. I understand the dangers of his work and I know not to interfere in it right now."

"What happens when you come back?"

"I'm taking each day as a gift. If we break up, I'll hurt, but I won't let it affect what I do."

"You interested in doing some work now?"

I reminded him that I wasn't allowed to come near the office until medically cleared by the review board.

"That never stopped any of us before and I hear that you are spending a great deal of time at the firing range."

"Did Frank tell you? I still have privileges and it's a cheap date." Amazing how he knew. He wasn't called the legendary detective for nothing. As I spoke I felt a sensation at the base of my skull. He needed something. I waited.

"Yes, Frank Merchant and I have talked. So you're bringing all your skills up to date, except those you were beginning to take great pride in, your skills as an investigator."

I looked at him with downcast eyes. "I don't know if I can do the job again."

"Well, if you don't practice Sergeant, you won't have to worry about that and I'll be looking for someone else to take your place."

His words stung. "I can't go out on active cases now anyways."

"I know it, but you are damned good and right now, I could use those skills. Because you're not around, I've had to put Mark with Ed and we've got a backlog. I don't have any one to do research."

We always had a backlog because we were the best unit of the SFPD. I could smell it. The old fox needed something.

"What do you want Chief?"

"I need someone who knows something about accounting and who can read Spanish well enough to take a look at the finances of one Reymundo D'Acosta."

"Latin Rey?" I blurted, referring to the reputed king of San Francisco's drug trade. I saw the Chief's eyes light up. He'd hooked me.

"Himself. Fran, if you were to do it, you'd have to come in to the office. I can't have the records out of it."

"I'm going to see Janet Parkman today. Let me talk it over with her and I'll get back to you with my answer in a couple of days."

"I need your answer sooner than that. Diana Sanger is the prosecutor for this." The Chief dropped the last piece of the puzzle into place. No wonder he hadn't wanted Mark to come. No wonder he was so insistent for help from inside the office. "I want Diana to have the best. I want her to work with you. I want you to be her lead investigator for this trial. Mark will be happy to do all the leg work you need."

"But what about Ed. He's senior. He should do…."

"Sergeant Brown, will have his choice of cases but, he does not have the necessary skills for this one. It's yours if you want it. If you can, most importantly."

I sat there quietly for a time. " _Se hicieron dificultades que hay que superar_." I said softly.

"What was that you said Fran?"

Something my mother used to say when I was growing up. " _Se hicieron dificultades que hay que superar_."

"Difficulties were made to be overcome" the Chief said. "I remember Maggie saying that to Dave many times when he had a hard case."

"Or after I was in a fight with Bobby Maldonaldo at St Peter's."

The Chief smiled. "Madre Tomas. She had a seat in her office just for you." He pressed my hands once more. "Thanks for the coffee. I'll show myself out." He turned his chair around and wheeled to the door.

I walked him there and opened it. "I'll let you know."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14 Déjà vu All Over Again**

Once again I sat in my familiar spot on the couch in Janet Parkman's office, under the window, feeling the late afternoon sun between my shoulder blades. We'd been working on so many things over the last two and a half months. I'd started feeling like things were making a turn for the better, but now, I wasn't so sure. Ted Glenville wanted to see me, and the Chief had asked that I come back to work, before I was cleared. That was on top of everything else going on in my life.

From behind her desk, Janet Parkman listened to everything I said. More importantly, listened to every vocal inflection and every gesture as well. After I'd finished, she steepled her fingers and looked up at the ceiling. I knew what that gesture meant, 'Give me a moment to process this, will you?' Finally, she tipped her head down and looked at me, a half smile playing about her lips.

"Which shall we talk about first?" she asked.

"I have a choice?" I smiled back at her.

"You always have a choice, Fran. Question is, what choice do you want to make first?"

"Let's start with the Chief's visit."

"It sounds like it went well. You didn't head off to the wine bottle immediately afterward."

"I don't do that anymore."

"Good choice. You said you felt different about him."

"I've known the Chief all my life, but we went our separate ways for a time. I was going to be an accountant, a stepping stone to other things, you know? I wanted to work for a big international firm. I couldn't wait to get out of here and live. My mother was dead. I didn't need to take care of my father, the police department was doing that, and I got a scholarship to USF. I had a professor who said I should major in forensic accounting, a relatively new field. My background as a cop's daughter would be useful, he thought. Major companies were in need of that and I could call my own shots. Halfway through college though, I realized what my father did was just as important as a big corporation, no, I take that back. It was more important. I wanted to help people in trouble, like my father did, not companies. I thought that maybe my talent for numbers might be useful with white-collar criminals. I got the criminal justice degree as well and then went to the Academy."

Janet Parkman said nothing, she just continued to lean back in her chair listening.

"The Chief's always tried to be a father figure to me especially since I became part of the team. I was fine with that for a time. Mark, Ed, the Chief, me, we all need family, and with Diana, Eve, Sam, and Katherine, we are that family. But that closeness might have put some limits on what I do. There's a reluctance on his part at times to put me in a more active role in some investigations. Maybe I'm still the little girl he saw at the Wednesday night poker games.

"But, he's offering you the lead investigator spot. That doesn't sound protective to me. You'll be one of, if not, the most important witness in the trial."

"…..with a lot of in house work. He wants me to translate documents and crunch numbers. He's willing to give me just about anything I need to do the work, including assigning Mark to me. But I don't know how comfortable he is if I have to go out."

"Here's what I think, Fran, you're making more of this than you need to. You're the best-qualified person for this job. Definitely more qualified than Ed or Mark. The Chief needs someone he trusts for this job and I see no problem with your going to work early if that's what you want to do. BooSoo will accept what I recommend to them. And after wondering for months about if you should go back to work, you've made up your mind. What we really need to talk about is the first little bomb Bob Ironside dropped on you."

"Ted Glenville," I said quietly.

"Exactly. That's what's really bothering you. You need to decide what to do about this before you go back to work for the Chief. So start by telling me again what he said to you."

"He said Glenville wanted to see me, that he had something to tell me."

"No clues about what it was?" She asked.

"None."

"Is he up for a sanity hearing?"

"I don't know. I don't hear anything from either Victim's Rights here or at the hospital. "

She picked up her office phone. "Well, I, for one, want to know. Glenville wants something from you. You need to know what it is." From a flat leather book, she looked up a number and dialed. "Christopher? Jan Parkman. Listen, Chris, I need to know something. I'm working with a patient who's been directly contacted by a patient at your place. Your patient wants to meet with mine. Can you find out if that patient is up for a hearing or reevaluation anytime soon? Name is Glenville, G-l-e-n-v-i-l-l-e. The first name is Theodore. Yeah, I'll wait."

She covered the mouthpiece turned to face me. Chris Denning's a good friend, who happens to be a crackerjack shrink working at Napa. He'll find out what's happening. "Hey Chris, what's going on? Uh huh." She scribbled a note on a pad. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Thanks. I owe you dinner. Your choice. Next Friday? Sure. We'll talk soon." Hanging up the phone she looked at me. "Ted Glenville is up for a sanity hearing a week from Thursday. Apparently, he's convinced his therapist he's ready to be out in the world again. "

I felt my heart jump into my throat, my stomach knot up and my back stiffen. Once more I felt like the scared little girl I'd been after he tried to kill me. "That means he could be out on the streets again immediately."

She could see the change in my body language. No longer was I an adult. I was afraid.

"Fran."

I took a breath and began telling her that suddenly every bad thing that had happened between the night in the parking lot and my recent decision to be a healthy person had suddenly resurrected itself. I felt shaky and weak like I'd made no progress at all.

"Remember what we talked about when you first started coming to see me. You're the only survivor of his murder spree this spring. A while ago, you told me that you believed you had a moral responsibility to be the voice for the women he killed. I think Glenville's betting you're so battered; you won't go and he'll get a free pass out. If you went, you wouldn't go alone, would you? You're going to want to talk about things afterward."

"No, the Chief promised to go with me."

"What if I went with you instead? For one, I could see how you're reacting to it and two; I can make an educated guess on Glenville, which will help you. After you see Glenville, we'll talk. Besides, I'd be wanting to know how you were handling it all the time you were there."

I thought for a moment. What she was offering made sense, and it was something I knew needed to be done. I needed to confront him. To show him I had survived. That I wasn't a victim.

"So you'd be going as what again?" I asked.

"Your chauffeur and counselor." She replied.

"When can we do this?" I asked.

She opened her appointment book. "I can rearrange things for either tomorrow or the next day." She hit the redial button on her phone, spoke briefly to Dr. Denning again and hung up. "I have a sweet, sexy, '63 Corvette Stingray convertible. The sun will be out tomorrow. Want to go for a ride about 10 and meet Mr. Glenville?"

I nodded agreement, Dr. Parkman would pick me up at my apartment tomorrow a little before 10 and our appointment would be at 11:30 am. Before leaving her office, I called the Chief. He was happy to hear that I would be coming back to the office next week, but not so happy when I told him that Janet Parkman would be going to Napa with me. I think he understood that it was better she came with me, but he wanted to be my protector. I wanted to show him I didn't need one.

I was unsettled after my appointment. Ed was working, so I couldn't see him. Instead, I walked to the Whitfield's, I needed a friend and I could paint Suzanne's cast. Ringing the bell, I was greeted at the front door by Suzanne, who showed me her now dingy white cast. Behind her came Eve. She could tell my mood and led me into the family room where I collapsed on the couch.

"You're early. Do you want a drink? Iced tea, lemonade, bourbon?"

"Iced tea would be wonderful," I said. She went to get it and Suzanne scooted onto my lap. She put her arms around me. I could feel the hardness of her cast on the side of my head. She looked seriously into my face. "Why is Tia sad?"

"I'm not sad mi sobrina; just working hard to get better, like you have. I'm very tired right now and I have to meet someone tomorrow that I really don't want to is all. But sometimes you have to deal with those people."

Suzanne said defiantly, "I would beat them up".

She sounded so much like me growing up that I laughed.

"Not funny Tia. I'm serious."

"Si, mi pequeña. I can tell that you are very, very serious. Thank you for looking out for your Tia. But you shouldn't do things like that. When I was little, I would use angry words and I fought those I was angry with. My mamita, my mother, would have to come to school and get me from the principal's office. I would always tell her, 'Mamita, no podía ayudarme. Mama, I couldn't help myself.' Mamita would always hug me tightly and whisper,

' _Mija, se hicieron dificultades que hay que superar_.' Difficulties were made to be overcome.

And you know, querida, my mother was right, they are."

She asked if I had a picture of her. I got my wallet and pulled out the picture I had of both of them.

Suzanne oohed and ahhed over the picture of my mother in her wedding dress and my father in his police uniform. She asked me if they were both alive and I told her they lived in my heart.

"I would cry if I lost my mommy or my daddy." She said thoughtfully.

Eve returned bearing a tray of drinks. "Suzanne, Fran will paint your cast later, but I think she and I need to talk a while."

Suzanne gave me another hug and a big kiss before bouncing off my lap. She ran upstairs and we heard her tell her grandmother that Tia was here to paint a new George.

From the top of the steps, Marion Whitfield called out that I was to stay for dinner, no questions about it. The simple gesture made me teary.

"So, what's making you an emotional mess?" Eve asked sitting next to me on the couch, her arm around my shoulders after handing me my tea.

I told her, sparing no detail.

"He has to convince you that he's not the same person who attacked you and murdered three others. He does that and he's out on the street again. And what happens to you?"

"I hope I would not be this basket case that I am now. But maybe he has changed, recovered. It does happen"

"You may be saying that, but you don't believe it for a minute, do you?"

"No. I'm betting he knows from someone, his father, or most likely his lawyer, about my recovery, that I haven't come back completely, primarily because I'm not at work."

"We haven't had lunch for a while, you and I?" Eve said suddenly.

"Yes, why?"

"How about instead I meet you both afterward for lunch at the Boon Fly Café? I'll buy."

"If you think Dr. Parkman wouldn't mind."

"I'll call her. If it's a problem I won't come, but in this case, since it's not an appointment following the meeting, I don't think she'll mind my paying for lunch."

My smile of relief showed it all. Eve's mother entered the room and gave me a hug. Every time I saw her, I always thought her the epitome of a San Francisco society matron, her blonde hair carefully swept back in an updo, an evenly modulated voice with just a trace of Austrian in it, and a figure that could only be described as petite, dressed in the latest couture. "Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes. How long do you think it will take for the paint to dry on the cast, Fran?"

"About half an hour."

"Ah, me, Suzanne will just have to wait until after dinner to get her monkey back." She laughed.

A dark-haired older woman entered the room. "Miss Marion," she began, her voice colored by a soft drawl. "Mr. Howard phoned, sends his regrets that he's held up in the city, but to start dinner without him. So, if you and the family are ready, dinner is on the table."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15 Into the Belly of the Beast**

I felt better after spending time with Eve and her family. Eve had told me before that as a child, that she didn't like Howard going to the Navy Club or Marion playing Mahjongg every Thursday, and as the child of a single parent, rising star in the police department, I could understand some of the loneliness she felt. Her parents were kind and generous people to me, I felt grateful they included me as part of their family at least temporarily. Marion had gone so far as to invite me to Chinn's for a Thursday afternoon game and I enjoyed it, the social aspect at least. It was an excuse for the neighborhood ladies to eat, drink and gossip amidst the clicking tiles. It reminded me of my uncles playing dominos on our front porch when they visited, and my father's Wednesday night poker games. Marion invited me to come anytime I was free Thursdays.

Before I left, Suzanne had gotten her George back. This time, she'd not only gotten George, but the Man in the Yellow Hat, a palm tree and George's kitty. She'd be leaving for Denver in another week, and I wanted to give her a cast to remember. I was going to miss being around her, being her " _Tia Fran_ ", her aunt. It made me think about my own biological clock. Would I ever have children of my own? I liked though being able to return Suzanne to her mother after a long day of being with her. Maybe I just wasn't cut out for children, maybe if I had a family of my own I'd feel different. I still had time, if I was serious about a family. Was Ed?

It was just past twilight when I walked back from Whitfield's. I took a bottle of wine out of the rack, opened it, poured a large glass, taking it and the bottle out on my deck. I sat down, looking out into the increasing darkness, slowly drank and thought about tomorrow. A second equally large glass followed. I could feel the stress begin to loosen. I debated about having glass number three.

"Fran?"

I jumped, "Jesus, Ed."

He came out on the deck. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. You ok?"

I hadn't heard him come in so lost was I in my own thoughts "Thinking about a third and fourth glass of wine tonight, so, no, I'm not as ok as I hoped for."

"How bout you talk, and I'll have glass number three and four for you."

"Good plan," I replied handing him my glass. He sat in the chair next to me, filled the glass, set the bottle and the glass down and motioned to me. I curled up in his lap and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly. I tucked my head into the space between his head and shoulder, and we sat like that for a long time.

"I know you've heard this too many times today, but will you tell me about tomorrow. What your plan is?"

"I don't have a good one." I admitted. "I need to confront him about my assault, the murders, but I think it's going to backfire on me when I see him."

"It won't, you know."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know you. You'll walk through those doors tomorrow and he's going to be shocked. He wants to see you as broken and willing to accept his lies that he's cured. He's not sick, he's just a vicious little criminal who believes he can't be hurt and will do the same things again once he's out. You just need the right ammunition. C'mon."

Reluctantly I got off his lap and followed him into the living room. On the table was a manila envelope.

"I thought you'd like the police reports on Grace Kim, Carole Mapes, Vivian Dorsey and you, as well as a couple reports on assaults he committed as a teenager. You don't need to see pictures. His father got that all early stuff swept under the mat, paid them off, covered hospital bills, sealed court records and kept it out of the press."

"But this doesn't prove he's criminal, more that he's actually mentally ill."

"Nope, it proves that he has a pattern of major violence towards women. Here's one that will probably make him blow up." He paused to pull out the complaint sheet. I read it, sliding it back in the envelope when I was finished.

Reaching up I kissed Ed. "Thank you".

"I know you don't want me there tomorrow. I'd throttle the little punk for starters, but I'd like to stay the night. Make sure you get some stress reduction other than drinking the Chief's cabernet. See that you get some sleep."

I was touched by his asking to stay instead of assuming I wanted him to, and tonight I didn't want to be alone. "Is that what you call it now? Stress reduction?"

"Hey, I've been researching and I thought you'd like to try some new techniques out." He grinned.

Smiling, I took his hand and led him into the bedroom. I hadn't thought I would sleep much that night, but the security of being loved did it. Ed was cooking breakfast when I got out of the shower and dressed. I was greeted with a kiss and a cup of coffee.

"You know, the Chief told me the other day that I appeared to be getting used to your place, and now here I am, being served breakfast by you, without having to tell you where things are."

"Eat your French Toast before it gets cold." He admonished grinning.

As we ate, we talked about what I intended to use the information Ed had given me. When I looked at the pictures, I talked and took notes. My picture absolutely frightened me. It looked like a totally different woman, not me. Ed made small suggestions to what I said, but essentially agreed with what I'd decided to do. By the time we'd finished talking, eaten breakfast and started cleaning up, there was a knock at the door. I went into the bedroom to get my purse and jacket.

"Is this Fran Belding's place?"

"Yep, c'mon in. You must be Dr. Parkman. I'm Ed, whom she might have talked about just a little. Fran's almost ready. There's coffee if you've got time."

"Yeah, a half cup would be great. Just black." she said as Ed went to get it.

I came out of the bedroom shrugging into a blazer, my purse strap between my teeth. I dropped the bag and finished putting on the blazer. "Morning", I said sheepishly.

"I do the same thing, though I don't bite my purse anymore."

I could feel my stomach start to churn. I reminded myself to breathe through it.

"You ok?"

"I will be once I've gotten this over."

"I'll wait for you downstairs. Nice to meet you, Ed. Thanks for the coffee."

I took the cups over to the sink and rinsed them. Ed came behind me and put his hands on my shoulders and turned me into a last long embrace, his hands rubbing up and down my sides while mine wrapped around his neck.

"You'll be fine. Call me when you can. I want to know what happened and most importantly how you are."

I nodded. "I love you."

"I love you too." He bent down for a kiss. "Now get out of here. I've got to finish cleaning up and get in to work before the Chief blows a gasket because he forgot he gave me the time."

"Chief's getting soft in his old age. Letting you have the morning off."

"Naw, I just think he's realized the Department can't afford paying off the leave time I have. Don't forget this". He handed me the packet.

The drive to Napa was quicker than I thought. I had been consumed with rereading the packet and making more notes in my head and Janet Parkman still drove like a cop. I was surprised when she pulled into the drive of the hospital. We walked into the Administration Building where we were met by Ted Glenville's doctor. Doctor Roy was an intense young man who had only been in America a year, he told us.

"I am still learning much about this country" He told us in his heavily accented British Indian English after we exchanged introductions.

"Has he said to you why he's so anxious to meet with my patient, Doctor Roy?"

"No, Doctor Parkman. This has been a recent development, just in the past two months. He has made great strides and I believe that it would be a good idea to make peace with her. I argued against it originally."

"Why was that Doctor?"

"Well, his having to deal with the trauma from that night all over again. Miss Belding repeatedly propositioned my patient prior to the attack."

"Dr. Roy, Ted Glenville attempted to murder me not once but twice. The second time, I was in a hospital bed, recovering from this." I pulled out the picture the Crime Scene team had taken at the hospital of me and the copy of the admitting notes. I could feel my anxiety threaten to take over. I worked to gain control. "He also assaulted a policeman assigned to protect me. At the time of the first attack, I was investigating two murders that took place on campus. It would be totally unprofessional for me to proposition a witness, which if you had checked with Chief Ironside, who was here the other day visiting your patient, is something I would never do. Your client admitted to the attack on me and the murders at the time of his arrest, then his family got a psychiatrist to have him admitted here. If he had been tried for those crimes, he would have been given life imprisonment. I'm not a victim of his violence, I'm a survivor. That makes me dangerous to him. He doesn't know what to expect. He wants to know am I in any condition to oppose him? I am and I intend to."

"Ted did not tell me he had had a visitor the other day".

"Don't you wonder what else he hasn't told you?" From the corner of my eye I could see a look of approval from Jan Parkman, along with a reminder to center myself. "Now he wants to talk to me just before he gets his get out of jail free card. I intend to honor his request and talk with him about what happened while Dr. Parkman and you get to view the entire conversation. Do you want to take me to him, or shall I find someone else?"

"Fran didn't proposition him Dr. Roy. So you know your patient has lied to you at least once. Interesting you made this appointment without really knowing why or what he wanted to speak to Fran about. Let's find out what your patient has in mind."

Dr. Roy huffed in indignation. We walked down a short hallway; he buzzed open a door, motioning for me to go in. There was a small table and two chairs. I saw a large one way glass panel. I felt better knowing I was being watched. I chose the chair closest to the door, angled it so my face could be seen. I had a moment to breathe before I heard a buzzer and then there he was. He still had that boyish innocence I remembered from our sculpture class. The attendant behind him motioned him into the opposite chair. I asked that the attendant wait outside.

"They're looking at me, you know."

"At me too."

"I didn't mean to hurt you, my attorney told me you were in rehab fora long time. You shouldn't have said those things about my sculpture. They weren't nice at all."

His voice was casual, conversational, instead of the flat affect I expected from someone who was allegedly under major medication.

"You're not sure about going back to the police department. That's what your boss said. You hadn't made up your mind. You don't think you want to go back because of me. I didn't kill you, but I killed your career." He finished with a smirk.

"Is that why I'm spending most of this beautiful sunny day driving here and back? Just to hear that? You know the story of Jairus' Daughter? The girl Jesus raised from the dead? Well I'm her, back among the living."

"I'm having a hearing Thursday. Hopefully I'll be back in the city soon. We could meet some night. Have a drink, talk, my treat. I owe you that much for hurting you." His manner was calm but alert. There was a trace of a smirk on his face. I looked into his eyes. His pupils were slightly dilated. He was taking something. I looked at his hands and body for signs of his taking heavy duty psychotropics, like Thorazine or Lithium. I saw none of the telltale evidence, dry mouth, tremors, and lack of life. Glenville was definitely alive and kicking.

"I want to show you some pictures. I pulled out the first one. Carole Mapes, smiling, very much alive. "Do you remember her?"

"No."

"Her name was Carole. She was 19 years old and you did this to her." I showed him the picture of her after death. I found Grace Kim's pictures and showed them to him.

"I don't remember doing that. I was sick and now I'm better. I want to go home and see my mother."

I leaned over the table so close to him that he could understand every word I said.

"So you can do this to her again?" I whispered, showing him the picture of his mother that the police had taken. I sat back away from him, speaking louder.

"Let's talk about dear mommy. Has she been to visit you? I've heard she hasn't. Not once. How strange. How sad. Somehow it seemed necessary though you show her place by beating her up too. It wasn't just about putting your father inline for his affairs; it was reminding your mother who had the power in the house. Your father bought people off with donations and kept it out of the papers. I've got the transaction records, Ted. You beat up women who you thought didn't know their place, like me. No wonder your mother hides in a bottle. It wasn't your father's infidelities. It was the fear of you hitting her again. And once you get out of here that's what you're going to do..."

I'd struck a blow. His expression changed. No longer was he the calm, serene, apparently medicated Ted Glenville. The look he gave me now was the look he'd given me the night last March when I bumped into him at the entrance of the Art Studio, cold, calculating, murderous and very sane. He knew exactly what he needed to do next. I was right; he had been using this place as an escape hole. He'd probably taken just enough medication to be convincing to the aides and apparently his doctor too.

I plunged on making sure my voice was caught on the audio. "I have enough evidence on you to make sure that you're going straight to "Q". No stops for anything. And because you're a habitual, you'll be there until you're old and gray. A lifer at San Quentin."

He sagged down on the tabletop.

"I made a promise to the families of those women you murdered and now I'm going to add your mother to that list. I'll be there Thursday and I'll demand my opportunity to tell the truth."

He forgot his carefully cultivated façade of illness. He forgot that the audio and visual were turned on, that his every movement was being recorded. His face turned red. He stood up from his chair. "Bitch! I shoulda killed you when I had the chance!" he shrieked.

I dodged as he came round the table towards me. I was ready for him. He wasn't going to get me this time. As he lunged for me, I grabbed his near wrist, spinning him around, moving me away from him. Bending his arm behind his back caused him to sink to his knees. He began to whimper. The attendant burst into the room. We helped him back into his seat. He was going to tell me everything. There was no need for me to use more force.

"Damn you. I knew she'd told you. That's why I had to kill you. I knew that drunk had told you everything. You had to die. You had to die." He moaned, realizing he'd just lost his chance at freedom. There would be no sanity hearing for him next Thursday.

With a shock, I realized what I'd forgotten. The night before the assault, I sat with his mother in the library of the house. Coleen Glenville had been drinking good single malt like water. She had talked of Mill Valley and the Salvation Army and lots of money being paid out. I couldn't make heads or tails of what she told me. I'd written it down though like a good detective. The next night, Ted Glenville had met me in the parking lot and I'd forgotten his mother's words, until now. But Ed had figured it out. He'd deciphered my notes and done the back check. He knew about the attacks on the high school students at Mill Valley and the homeless women at the Salvation Army shelter. As long as young Glenville could get his father to write a check or talk to the judge, he was golden.

"And what about your mother? Were you going to kill her?" I asked.

He nodded. An overdose of Seconal in her scotch would take care of her. She wouldn't feel anything. It would be reported as an accidental overdose. He'd be free and clear to come after me one last time.

Before he left, I had him write a statement. After he signed it, I told him to be glad California didn't have the death penalty any longer. He would be able to spend his days in remembrance of what he'd done.

After he left, I sat in the interview room for a time wrung out. After an eternity, I heard the door open. Someone moved the chair Ted Glenville had so recently sat in. I looked over. It was Janet Parkman.

"You ok?"

"Very, very tired, but clean. It's done."

"You had this planned."

I nodded. "If I had told you, you would have been at risk. I wouldn't ever jeopardize you."

"Thank you for that. You've got quite the persuasive technique you know."

"You saw what happened. He said in full view of everyone. He "shoulda killed me".

It was quiet for a while.

"Ed must have found the notes I'd written on my conversation with Coleen Glenville. He went back into the files and found the case notes and reports, and the pictures for me."

"How do you feel other than tired?"

"Like I'm not a victim any more. I don't have to look around corners."

"Then I've done my job or rather you have." She smiled. "Oh, don't worry, there are still some things you need to work on, but I think it's time for a break. Make an appointment for couple of weeks after you've gone back to work. I'll give you a ride to the Boon Fly. Eve thinks she owes me lunch. I'll get it some other time. I'm going to see a few favorite wineries, stock up and enjoy the afternoon."

After lunch, I asked Eve to drop me off at the office. I needed to talk to the Chief, I said. But as I reread the reconstructed notes on the way back, I recognized the style and writing. I knew who really had been my guardian angel for this and that I needed to talk to him. It was long overdue.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 What's New With Mark?**

Eve dropped me off at 750 Kearney. I hadn't been there since I'd been hurt so long ago in the spring. I spent so much time in that building, I could probably go through it blindfolded. My watch said it was a little before six. I took the freight elevator to the top floor, the Chief's home, at least until next week. He'd been moving personal things out to the ranch at Healdsburg. It would be strange, all of us just working here and not having the Chief living there. He'd promised me I could have his bedroom and small personal study to use for my investigation, when I started it. He was leaving his furniture, because Katherine had her own vision as to what she wanted the ranch house to look like and the Chief's bachelor Navy officer style wasn't going to cut it with her. The Chief said she had waited for him for so long, it was only fair she got equal say in the house decor. I could stay in the office when the nights got too late. I suspected they would and thought it a lovely perk and planned on using it often. Doing the work at Sergeant's pay couldn't hurt either. I needed the money.

I walked in through the door and down the ramp. There he was, his back to me, clearing the table of files and debris, getting ready for another day. I could smell the strong French roast coffee that kept us all fueled throughout the day, that I suspected after all the years the aroma had permeated into every space in the office.

"Hi"

He turned to face me, his café au lait face breaking into a broad smile, his top lip slightly hidden by his moustache. "Fran, how are you?" He moved quickly to give me a tight hug.

"I'm fine Mark. Is there anything to drink around here?" I settled myself in a seat

"Well, the Chief hasn't taken everything, if that's what you mean. I think we can find something. A short time later he produced two beers and a bottle opener. He opened one, gave it to me, then repeated the motion for himself.

"It's five o clock somewhere" he joked. What are we drinking to?"

"Gratitude. Gratitude for friends who went beyond the call to help me, especially when they try to be anonymous."

We clinked bottles and drank.

"Damn Ed. He wasn't supposed to say anything." Mark finally said.

"He didn't. You left your notes all over the place. You told me once I was the only person who could read your writing when I was typing all those law school papers for you, remember?"

"Ah, caught by the Lady Frances, fair and square" he said, affecting an upper class British accent. "So is the little punk staying in his hospital room, or did he finally come clean?"

"Because of you, he signed a confession and the California Department of Corrections was coming to get him late this afternoon and transferring him to San Quentin for, as we say in the trade, further evaluation." I walked over to the window overlooking Kearney and the Bay.

"I'm glad he's been nailed and that I could help, but you did it. He wouldn't have given himself away without you facing him down."

"You gave me the tools to do it." I felt some tears sting the corners of my eyes. I sniffed, pursed my lips and nodded my head. "I didn't think I was going to be able to do it." I sat down on the window seat and took a swallow of my beer

Mark sat down next to me putting his arm around me. "But you did it Fran, you forced him to admit what he'd done, and he did. End of story. So, the Chief says we're going to be working together?"

"It appears so." I said. "I have no idea of the number of papers the Chief says he has, but he wants a translation and all the number crunching done by April 1."

Mark stood up and took my hand. "That's a horrible April Fool's joke".

"It still doesn't give Diana a lot of time for final preparation if she has to go to trial June tenth."

"C'mon girl, let me show you why the Chief's so anxious to have you back in the saddle, I mean the office again." Getting up, he extended a hand and led me to the small room we called the storeroom. Unlocking and opening the door, Mark flicked on the light. Inside were twenty banker boxes each stuffed full of documents. "Your cousin Rod brought these in a couple of days ago after a raid at Latin Rey's house."

I took a look at one. Handwritten notes, account registers, diaries, bank statements, other financial documents, most in Spanish, just for starters, how lucky could a girl be?

Mark grinned. "I'm your go fer, Sergeant, so tell me what you're going to need to start." He pulled out a notebook. I took it from him and began filling the page rapidly.

"Ok, I can get you that stuff early next week."

"Uh huh"

"What kind of expense account did he give you? I don't think he's going to be happy about this."

"Not him I'm worried about making happy. It's the ADA I'm working for. If Diana Sanger isn't happy, I'm not going to be happy and if I'm not happy then..."

"I got it. If you aren't happy, then it is not going to be fun at the Sanger home."

"Just trying to maintain marital bliss, my friend."

He nodded and drank some beer. "Speaking of bliss…"

"What does he tell you?"

"Do you know how I found out about you two?"

"No, how did he break the news to you?" I asked.

"He never did say anything directly to me. Diana told me after having lunch with Eve a few weeks ago. You were supposed to be there at the interrogation, I mean lunch, but you were off doing something."

"Details, Sanger, details!" I said smacking his upper arm playfully.

"Not many. This is Ed Brown we're talking about after all. I just asked him why he was grinning all the time."

"And?"

"He said he found a woman who made him very happy and that was all I needed to know. So I broke out the strappado, tortured the poor guy into telling me everything. Actually, we went to Giamatti's one night and after a couple of drinks, I asked him if I'd ever get to meet this wonderful woman and he said I knew her quite well and had met her years ago. Then he started to laugh. The dude doesn't do that much you know. I've told him before that if he wanted to date women, he should smile a bit, try laughing. I'm glad you're both happy."

"Me too."

"Hol' on one moment, girl" he said, his voice lapsing back to his Bernal Heights roots. "Fact is Fran, I've never seen Ed as happy as he is right now. And you look pretty damn good yourself, woman."

We clinked bottles together and drank.

"You know Ed's up for promotion to Lieutenant next month." I said. "I hope he gets it. He deserves it so much."

"Yeah, he does." Mark agreed. "I just hope they don't transfer him immediately."

"The Chief can argue he's officer in charge of a specialized task squad. That's us for sure."

"That would work for a while. Ed's got ideas about running his own shop eventually."

"I know. He'd be good at it. Half a dozen stations would take him just as quickly."

"Does the Chief know?"

"What doesn't the Chief know? He's Robert T. Ironside. He knows everything."

"True that." Mark agreed. "Now, when are you coming back?"

"BooSoo says officially October first. My therapist says that would be a good date as well, but the Chief wants me back Monday morning."

"And what date have you chosen?" He laughed.

"Monday morning September 24, at 8 am, I'll be back on the payroll as a researcher/translator. No permission to carry or patrol until the first. I'll be looking at those boxes you have locked away in the closet from his private office."

"You mean you're taking over his man cave? Get one of those Feng Shui masters to cleanse the room of spirits first before you move in. Diana will be happy to hear you're coming back Monday. She's really nervous about this case. Chief asked for her specifically. What can the DA do but agree?"

"I'm glad for both those things. You, for being my leg man on this and Diana, who will tear Latin Rey's smugness to shreds on the stand. I've just got to deliver the goods to make it happen."

Mark grinned. "You will. I know it. Now speaking of marital bliss" he said looking at his wristwatch. "I've got to go. Mom's got the girls tonight and through Sunday so, well…..you know." He got up out of his chair, I did the same.

"Go ahead. I'll lockup for you and see you tomorrow."

Mark took the bottles into the kitchen and rinsed them out, then walked up the ramp and out the door. I heard him lock the door behind him. He knew I was going to stay. I loved how the three of us knew on instinct what to do to help each other. I'd been so stupid to have shut them out after the assault. Finding a pad and pen, first testing it to make sure it worked, I went to the closet and unlocked it. Taking out the first banker's box, I moved it onto the round oak pedestal table and started the inventory. I knew that the Chief would have had one taken already, but I wanted to take one myself. I'd compare his Monday morning with mine. Letters, ledgers, cancelled checks, check registers and transaction tickets all needed to be recorded.

The office phone rang.

"Chief Ironside's office"I answered instinctively.

At the other end of the call was Ed. He was downstairs with Tim waiting to take me home and called because he hadn't wanted to startle me by coming in. I got up from my chair and looked at the clock. It was almost eleven. The world of Reymundo D'Acosta had already begun its seduction of me. This would be fascinating work, but it was now time to put everything back in order in the genie's box. I did, keeping my copy of the list. I locked the closet door. There would be no work tomorrow. Mark and Ed had the day off. The Chief and Katherine would be married that evening and we were expected to be out at the ranch early to help prepare for the ceremony and stay the weekend. Sam was coming in from Denver and Eve's parents had agreed to keep Suzanne with them. Mark's mother would babysit the twins. Nothing to do but decorate, drink good wine, eat good food and enjoy ourselves. I knew that Monday morning, we'd be back to odd hours, strange meals and lots of coffee.

For now, it was time to celebrate, which I had plans to start as soon as I saw Ed Brown on the other side of the door.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 Dearly Beloved**

Ed and I left before just before sunrise for the Chief's ranch. As we drove north watching the day break, the sky was already a deep blue with only a few cirrus clouds, looking like huge wispy streaks of cotton batting. The temperature was in the mid-sixties. It was a perfect day special ordered by the Chief as a wedding gift to Katherine. As Ed's car went across the Golden Gate Bridge, I couldn't tell where the sky ended and the water began, it was that close a match in color. That effect would be wonderful in a painting. We took Highway 101 north to Santa Rosa stopping for coffee. The Chief's vineyard was in Healdsburg, an hour away. The further north we drove, the more the foothills rolled and trellised grapevines were terraced up the sides of the hills looking like green and brown clotheslines.

Healdsburg was what could best be described as "eclectic". Its architecture was a mix of Spanish Mission through the latest modernist, its small shops stuffed with trendy goods for the wine tourist. We turned off the highway onto Dry Creek Road, heading west across the Russian River the road becoming less paved and narrower as it moved through the foothills. Then we were there. As we went up the sloping drive, we could see newest part of the vineyard consisting of young cabernet franc vines, ones that we had planted as a wedding present, the Chief, of course, supervising. They were staked to t-posts and protected by equally young Live Oak trees. We continued up the drive past the tasting room and office to what the Chief called his ranch house. Built into the hillside, the rambling wooden house featured ceiling to floor windows facing the main vineyards so wherever the Chief was in the house, he could look at his grapes. There were four guest houses off the main house. We would each have one. We'd be together a lot of the weekend, but we'd also have our privacy.

At the main house, we were greeted by the Chief, Katherine, and Jamie Roberts. Jamie was a local who had taken over the job that Mark, Ed and Tim, had done for so many years. It was now Jamie's task to make sure the Chief did his exercises, was ready for work, and drove him to work each day, so he'd have time to make early morning phone calls or study case files, and most important, that the Chief left work in time to get home to Kate. Like so many who lived in Sonoma County, Jamie wanted to be a winemaker himself. After dropping off the Chief, he attended viticulture classes at UC Davis. He was an accomplished guitarist and singer as well and would be providing most of the music at the wedding and reception.

After greetings, we were told which cabin was ours and to come back after unpacking, for coffee and our work assignments. Our cabin was the furthest from the main house. Ed joked it was because the Chief wanted us far away. It consisted of two rooms, a small bathroom with a shower and a main room. A large bed was centered on the west wall facing a ceiling to floor French door that bathed the place in light and a large stone fireplace. On the mantel were several orchids in full bloom, the Chief's other love. As I hung up my clothes, the place grew darker. The shades were being drawn. I felt hands on my shoulders moving rapidly south. I did a pick and roll, ending up on the bed on top of Ed. We kissed. Work assignments were going to wait awhile.

The Chief was growling when we finally showed up for coffee later. It was after nine and neither Mark nor Eve had shown up yet. Ed and I gave each other a look. Lateness because of children was allowable. Lateness because of other reasons wasn't. We drank coffee, ate pastries, and I could see him start softening, just a bit.

"You know Robert. You could try to be just a little nicer. It is your wedding day after all." Katherine Wainwright said as she came out of the house. "There's no need to be grumpy."

"I'm not grumpy Kate. These two showed up at our door over an hour and a half ago and they're just now coming to see what they need to do to make this day a reality."

Kate opened a bottle and poured four glasses of port, passing them around. "They're in love dear, and today that's what we're celebrating."

"And port," Ironside continued, "is not a breakfast wine."

"Don't be priggish Robert." She laughed good naturedly. "I know that, or have you forgetten how we met?" She handed us each a glass. "My late husband, Pierre, was a wine merchant. We met when we were both at the Sorbonne. We moved here in the seventies, when California wine was not considered on the same level as French. It was, politely speaking, drinkable, a good party wine, as the kids would say, but, for the most part, not Chateau Rothschild. Pierre thought there was opportunity here and he was right. He'd enjoy the wines they're making now, including the ones Robert makes. After Pierre's death, I moved back to Boston, but I missed this city. I came back and met Robert at a charity wine auction for St Mary's. Somehow, we hit it off." She paused to smile as the Chief kissed her hand.

"Jamie has the champagne under lock and key for tonight. He's afraid we'll drink it all before the wedding and he wants it at the absolute perfect temperature. It's far too early for cabernet, and who wants to drink an unchilled chardonnay? Instead, we'll have a toast to friendship and love with this wonderful port, then get to work".

We took our glasses to toast the couple.

"Ed," the Chief interrupted, "it appears Kate has decided she wants a matron of honor tonight. Her sister Amelia is doing the honors. It appears I will need a best man. I'd like it very much if you would do that."

Ed appeared to think about it for a time. I could tell he'd already decided.

The Chief began to look irritated. "Sergeant Brown, there's no need to overthink this. A simple yes or no sometime before the ceremony begins would be appreciated."

Ed took his glass and touched the Chief's glass with it. "Do I get to make the toast?"

The Chief shook his head. "Yes, you get to make the toast."

Ed laughed. "I always hoped this day would come. There are a few things I've been saving up to say over the years."

"You get two minutes Sergeant and then I cut off your microphone. It's a party, not a blasted Dean Martin Celebrity Roast"

"Agreed, and I get five minutes."

We spent the remainder of the day stringing lanterns and placing flowers about the patio, moving chairs, tables and market umbrellas around the patio eventually joined by Eve and Mark, and Sam and Diana. The work went faster and finally it was time to get ready.

We went back to the cabin where Ed volunteered to help me with my shower. He said he knew spots that I missed regularly and could get them squeaky clean for me. I declined reluctantly, telling him maybe he could show me those spaces tomorrow.

By the time Ed got out of the shower, I was dressed and was applying my makeup. He hadn't seen my dress before today, but I could tell he loved it. Eve, Diana and I had gone shopping together, falling in love with the same Herve Leger dress with matching stoles. They were cocktail length, with a plunge v neck, spaghetti straps and very form fitting. The three of us were good enough friends that we decided we all could wear the same dress. I was glad I was running again. It was the only way I could fit in a size four. Diana's was deep burgundy, Eve chose kelly green, and mine was emerald blue. They had persuaded me to splurge on a pair of Manolo Blahnik heels that gave me an added two inches of height. I didn't like wearing heels; it was hard to do things like run after a suspect in them, but today, as I caught a glimpse of myself in the full length mirror, I thought my mother would have been happy to see me looking like a proper lady and not a tomboy. Ed had chosen to wear not one of the classic tuxedoes, like Sean Connery would wear, but had selected a western style with a looser fit and longer jacket. If he'd just brought along a Stetson and a six shooter, he would have looked just like someone in a Jimmy Stewart western, maybe that one about the English cattle coming to Wyoming.

"Hey Marshal, you clean up pretty well." I joked.

"Yessm, reckon I do." He replied kissing me. "And you're the prettiest saloon girl I've seen in a long time."

Then it was time. We walked back towards the patio and grounds we'd worked so hard on today. The lanterns were already lit. We were joined by Mark and Diana. Mark gave me a smile and a low wolf whistle of appreciation. Eve and Sam had already staked out a table for us. Ed stood at the right side of the gazebo, next to the Chief. Jamie sat off to the other side playing his guitar. Then I saw the string quartet, hired for the day, slip their instruments under the chin, the cellist cradling his cello's neck on his shoulder, almost as if he was hugging it. They raised their bows and began a waltz. The minister gave a nod and Amelia began her walk, slightly swaying to three quarter time. The music changed and Ella Fitzgerald came over the loudspeaker, singing " _My Funny Valentine_ ". Katherine waited until the last verse to slowly walk up the aisle, her eyes firmly locked on her groom, with the words, "Each day is Valentine's Day", stretched out by the singer, as she finally joined him.

"Dearly Beloved", the minister began. When it came time for the vows, Katherine gave her bouquet of pink roses to her sister and gracefully knelt on her equally pink silk dress. Looking the Chief in the eyes, she spoke from her heart.

"My dearest, darling, wonderful Robert." She began with her clipped, precise New England accent. "When I first met you, I had just begun to live again after losing Pierre. I knew there was an empty spot where my heart was. I never dreamed it could be full again. You've done that for me. I am so grateful for your love. So in good harvests and bad, vintage years, or not, as long as I have you, we can do anything." She stayed on her knees, her back straight as the Chief began his vows, tightly grasping her hands, shutting out everyone else. There was just the two of them.

"Kate, my love, I can't tell you what joy it is to live each day and have you in it. To enjoy all the amazing things I never thought I'd be able to share with anyone. Most importantly, to be in love with the most wonderful woman in God's Creation and realize that I'm the luckiest man. And as long as I have you, we can have it all."

There was an exchange of rings and a kiss, and then Ed helped her up. Katherine wiped her eyes briefly. The minister cheerfully introduced them as Mr. and Mrs. Robert Thaddeus Ironside, and as the Chief turned around in his chair, Kate climbed on his lap, kissing him heartily. The Chief turned to look at Ed.

"Well Sergeant, this thing isn't going to push itself."

Ed grabbed the handles and gave a strong push. The quintet began to play the raucous music of " _Everybody Dance Now_ ". As Ed, the Chief and Kate moved down the aisle, the rest of us stood and applauded. Eve, Diana, and I, giggling with delight at the sight of the normally staid New Englander Katherine Wainwright Fournier Ironside dancing in the wheelchair astride her husband. Her arms moving to the beat of the cellist who was busy slapping the face of his instrument like a sound box. The Chief took it all in with a look of happiness we rarely saw.

Depsite his very public life, the Chief was an intensely private man. His relationship with Katherine had been revealed to us slowly. The wedding party was a small affair. Only a few members of the Police Department were there. Commissioner Randall of course was there. He had saved the Chief so many years ago after he was shot by giving him a reason to live. Carl Reese came, looking very good in his tuxedo. Now a Commander in the department, he hadn't changed much, tugging his collar, complaining about wearing a monkey suit and that he couldn't find a dress holster for his gun. The Chief had invited his poker buddies from the Wednesday Night Group. Katherine had invited several friends from San Francisco. Their new neighbors along Dry Creek had all been invited and then there were us. I wonder how we were being introduced, as colleagues, staff or friends?

We moved along various stations, trying the neighbor's wines and noshing on hors d'oeurves as we waited for pictures to be taken and dinner to be served. Ed came up behind me and brushed my neck with his lips, sending a chill down my spine.

"This is better than hors d'oeurves", he whispered.

"And you're pairing that with what wine?" I giggled.

He held up a glass holding a dark red liquid. "This one goes quite nicely with neck nuzzling. C'mon, Chief wants a picture of all of us."

Holding hands, we walked out to the hilltop overlooking the main vineyard. The photographer smiled as we gradually assembled. "Mr. Ironside, I was unaware that you had such a large and handsome family."

"Yes, they're quite independent and often don't listen to me. But we do care deeply about each other."

Pictures finished, the Chief announced he was hungry and he suspected the chili was just about done to perfection. Eve looked at him in amazement. "Chief, you didn't. Not at your wedding! "

"Officer Whitfield." He replied archly. "When have I ever had a dinner for you that didn't include chili?"

"Originally he wanted a chili and taco bar and I was able to dissuade him from that." Katherine explained. I knew Fran wouldn't have time to help cook any of his other favorites, but he settled for barbeque, as long as he could have."

"Chili". The Chief triumphantly crowed.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18 They're Breaking Up That Old Gang of Mine**

 **Part 1: Becoming His Honor**

Mark, Ed, Eve, and I had all done our professional, as well as a great deal of our personal, 'growing up'under the Chief's tutelage. Working with him, we'd discovered our strengths, weaknesses and passions, but no one more than Mark. The Chief had pulled him off the streets, away from the gangs, giving him an opportunity to live his life differently and he'd taken full advantage of those opportunities. I knew the type of neighborhood he'd grown up in. I lived in Mission; Mark, just to the south of me, in Bernal Heights. I knew firsthand how difficult it was for him to have escaped the 'hood'. I'd seen too many failed attempts in my own neighborhood.

The Chief, had been surprised but pleased, when following his graduation from Hastings College of Law, Mark had opted to join the police department instead of immediately joining a top firm. He was a good cop. After all, he'd been trained by two of the best, Ed and the Chief. Like the Chief, he saw what he did as solving puzzles, putting the pieces together one by one until he had completed it. We were even happier when he married Diana Johnson, a fellow law student. Diana had joined Westbrook, Alston and Romero after graduation as a junior litigator. As the newest staff, she took the worst cases, meaning most of the _pro bono_ work, giving the best defense she could to the clients who normally couldn't afford such a high powered firm, hoping eventually she would make partner. After one such case, she'd been threatened by the client because, in his opinion, Diana had 'deliberately thrown' the case. She showed her poise that day in handling the client, who threatened among other things, to knock her 'sorry black butt back to being the office secretary'. The Chief witnessed the incident and told her afterwards she should consider switching sides. Later that week, the District Attorney took her out for a long lunch. At five pm the same day, she submitted her letter of resignation to the managing partner. Two weeks later, having finished up loose ends at Westbrook Alston Romero, she joined the staff of the District Attorney's office. We knew she'd be running the office one day even though she was also the busy mother of twin one year old girls, Sandra and Cynthia.

In the months following the birth of his daughters, Mark appeared restless, pensive. He started reading law journals again during his spare time and began taking weekend continuing education classes. He also talked more about why he wanted to become a lawyer in the first place, to help people and that maybe it was time to act on that and help his community. Most importantly he talked about the injustices he'd seen in the courtroom and how he wanted to change that. In order for Mark to become a Superior Court Judge, he'd have to be an active member of the bar for ten years, meaning his first step would be to make a name for himself as an attorney, followed by getting elected to the District Court. More importantly, he'd have to create a strong network of friends, colleagues and money that could get him elected. After many long conversations with Diana, friends in the profession, the Chief and us, he made his decision. It wasn't that he didn't like being a cop. He loved it, but he needed to do more. He took us out for a very pricey dinner to announce he had taken a position with Burley Hawkins, one of the city's leading criminal law firms at the end of the month. I could tell the chief was saddened by Mark's decision to leave but he took it far better than he had when Mark had finished law school and married.

When that happened, Ed offered to move in be there to assist as Mark had done. The Chief refused, asking a retired policeman friend to live with him. Ed paid him off and moved in, the Chief discovering the change only after Ed came out of the second bedroom in his off duty outfit of jeans and t shirt. The Chief had gotten his driver's license and purchased a specially equipped Jeep with hand controls, along with having the van outfitted with the same controls. His relationship with Katherine had gotten much more serious and he began spending nights out of the office.

For Diana, it was a great relief. She'd never been happy being the wife of a cop, even for a short time. None of us blamed her at all. She lived in fear that there would one day be the knock on the door, the Chief sitting sternly in his chair, to hide his grief, with Ed and I on either side of him, telling her Mark was never coming home again. It was a worry compounded by the reality of their daughter Cynthia having been diagnosed with severe asthma. At first it was thought to be Cystic Fibrosis, but after many rounds of testing, was finally determined to be the latter. It would take some juggling, but Mark and Diana would be able to arrange schedules with the help of her mother to make sure a family member would always be with the girls.

I missed Mark not being in the office. I missed him singing Otis Redding, his bad coffee, his humor, friendship, and generosity. At the same time I knew he was happy with how his life was turning out. He deserved it, every last good thing coming to him.

 **Part 2: Stars and Bars**

I pulled the dress blues out of my closet, smoothing them. I hadn't worn them often since that first day in the Chief's office when he told me, " _Uniforms aren't necessary here_." I'd worn it for some funerals as well as Ed's promotion to Lieutenant and just two years later, I'd wear it today as Lt. Edward Brown became Captain Edward Brown. I looked it over carefully. It was spotless. I'd brought it back from the cleaners the other day along with Ed's and the Chief's. The Chief so rarely wore his, some didn't know he had one. Most thought he only had suits in his closet. He insisted on wearing it today. It was pride mixed with sadness on the Chief's part. He had fought and fought, but the brass was insistent. A Captain needed to be a boss. He couldn't be a subordinate, even with the force of nature that was Robert T. Ironside, advocating keeping him. I knew Ed would receive his assignment immediately following his promotion and that the Chief probably had a good idea of where his best student would go, but knowing the SFPD administration, no one would be surprised if they changed their minds and sent Ed somewhere else instead. Ed could tick off the bosses when he wanted, or needed to.

The Chief and I had planned a surprise party at Giamatti's following the commission. We'd booked the place for the entire day. The Chief and Katherine were handling the food and wine. The Chief had already made chili. Joaquin, the chef at Giamatti's would handle all the other cooking. Kate and Jamie were bringing Ed's friend Ray Chan, who promised to make sushi, as well as a pickup truckload of wine from the ranch, I had secretly sent out the invitations, not an easy task when the honoree was your lover and work partner. Tim Evans, who joined us after Mark left, would keep Ed busy after I disappeared, and the guests were instructed not to breathe a word to anyone, but to be at Giamatti's by 2:30 pm

I showered and dressed, leaving my jacket hanging. The commission would be at noon. The mayor would be in attendance, along with the top brass of the police department and the press. The ceremony would be short, so they said, and family was encouraged to attend. Ed would be surprised when he saw the size of his.

I looked at my wrist. The watch told me I had an hour before I needed to be at the airport to pick up my special guests. I was looking forward to seeing them. I decided to be early, after all I could park my car in front of the terminal and one of the guests deserved as short a walk to their transportation as possible. The drive to the airport was uneventful and I parked directly in front of the baggage claim door. As I got out, the airport cop stopped me, but when he saw me in my dress blues and the detective ID was flashed, he saluted smartly and promised to watch the car. I hated pulling rank on the guy, but I needed to get back to town as soon as possible.

The plane arrived on time, and I was there waiting at the gate when she slowly moved down the walkway.

"Maria Francesca!" She said in her slow rich Kentucky drawl.

I smiled and moved toward Ed's mother. It was my gift to him. She, not me, would pin his Captain's bars on him this morning. He had no idea that she was coming. I couldn't wait to see the look on his face.

"How was your flight?" I asked after we hugged.

"Oh, it was good. I think the cabin attendant was flirting with me for a time."

Sarah Brown had made the flight from Louisville to San Francisco, via Denver to surprise her son. Behind her were Eve, Suzanne, and Sam Dwyer. Sam, resplendent in his Denver PD uniform. More hugs followed.

"Fran, this woman is an absolute gem," Sam said. We must have been up until 1-1:30 am this morning. She has some great stories. Eve and I were laughing til it hurt."

Eve tucked her arm through mine as we walked to baggage check. She looked tired.

"You ok?" I asked.

"It's the life of a mother of a 13 year old girl. She knows everything and I don't. She's been a pain, but Sarah has been a blessing. Sam's promised Daddy he'll play golf with him tomorrow and he's taking Sue with him, so maybe we can talk then."

"It'll be Thursday so Marion will be at the Chinn's."

"Thank goodness for routines," she laughed.

I had planned on dropping them all off at Eve's parents, but the traffic had gotten snarled. It was now 11:15. I hit my siren and light bar, and the traffic parted like the Red Sea after Moses asked it to. I was through the bottleneck, but still running a little behind.

Sarah Brown looked at me and laughed. "RHIP"?

Today I thought, rank certainly did have its privileges and I would use every single one of them to get Ed's mother to Moscone on time.

I pulled up to the front of Moscone Civic Center and dropped them off, Suzanne volunteered to hide Sarah until the last moment, then I went to park the car. I came back to find the Chief in his dress uniform, talking to Mark and Diana, who'd brought Cyndi and Sandi, their twin daughters.

"So your honor, are you ready to view this moment of history?" Ironside asked.

"Chief" Mark laughed. "They can't get promoted unless I administer the oath. My colleagues on the District Bench were relieved when I volunteered for this gig. But especially since my best friend's getting his bars, I would have arm or mud wrestled for this," He turned to look at his wife. "Honey, did you remember to bring my..."

"Robe." Diana Sanger finished. "Yes sweetie, it's in the bag in the dressing room." She jerked a manicured finger towards the door. "Sandi, go get your daddy's robe and help him on with it, will you."

A tall lanky teen ran off without a word, bringing back the requested item a moment later.

"Here you are Dad".

Mark nodded "Thanks baby". He shrugged it on.

Eve and I whistled appreciatively.

Mark smiled "The robe makes the man".

Eve laughed and turning to Sam said, "You should have seen the lapels on the suits he used to wear. Oh my goodness, they were as wide as the Golden Gate."

"At least I had some style compared to Sgt. Brown Suit". He protested.

"Hey, I trust I meet the grade today". Ed came up behind us, hugging Eve and shaking Sam's hand.

"You look wonderful." I said, and he did. We kissed.

He nodded. "I just wanted to say hello and thank you all for coming today"

"Ed, my parents apologize for not being here, and would like to take us all out for dinner afterwards." Eve said.

"That would be fine."

"Where are Officer Evans and my wife?" the Chief asked.

"Here we are Robert," Katherinecame up behind her husband's chair, Tim Evans close behind her. A new round of handshakes and hugs took place.

"You said this would be a small affair. I seem to recall they once held a Democratic National Convention in this same intimate space."

"Kate, it matters not what was done, only what is to come."

"I thought I married a policeman, instead, I married a philosopher." She laughed.

A soft chime came from the loudspeaker. It was our cue to find our seats. I waited Ed was up front somewhat blinded by the stage lights before I motioned to Suzanne to escort Ed's mother to her seat.

There was the usual pomp and circumstance followed by speeches. Then they began calling the newly minted sergeants, followed by shiny new lieutenants up for their commission. Then it was time for the Captains. Ed would be one of the first.

"Edward Brown".

Ed looked at me, but I remained in my seat. I looked to my left. Slowly Suzanne Dwyer walked his mother to the steps. Sarah gracefully walked up the short flight and took the box given her by the announcer. She opened it and taking the insignias, pinned them to his shoulder pads. As Ed bent over to receive them, his eyes sought me out. They shone with one emotion.

It was all he needed to say to me.

 **Part 3, Moving Day**

I'd been running Mission District Station for a few months, when I finally had a reason to stop at 750 Kearney and check up on the Chief. It was all professional of course, I had a meeting scheduled with the other district captains at the old headquarters building and I knew it would probably be a good time to see him. I missed him and wanted to know how it was working out with the new team, one that it had been my responsibility to mentor. Department gossip was reporting that he was closer to retirement than ever before. I took the freight elevator to the top floor and walked into the office. To my surprise, Sam Dwyer and another man I didn't know, were sitting at the round oak table with the Chief.

"Fran!" Sam greeted me enthusiastically. He got up from his seat to hug me. "Or should I say, Captain Belding! Congrats on the promotion, girl. Eve and I are so proud of you. Heard they gave you Mission. Tough place to start, your old neighborhood. Tough neighborhood as well. Chief says you're going after Los Reyes big time." He said, referring to a local gang. "Good luck with that."

He introduced the other man as Commissioner Paul Fisette, a Denver City Council member, explaining that Denver Police were looking to headhunt other departments for new hires and they were asking the Chief's opinion on a few names. As Denver's Chief of Detectives, Sam had come because of his need for detectives and his familiarity with the department. I had a strong suspicion that Ed Brown was on that list.

Ed and I had been together eleven years. Fifteen, if you counted the four years we'd only worked together. We'd discussed marriage. Ed had proposed to me because he thought I wanted him to. I replied I had everything and didn't need a piece of paper to prove it. I knew he felt the same way. Both of us had suffered terrible losses in our lives that had caused deep and lasting scars. It colored how we viewed marriage. We were together but kept our own places, friends, and interests which we pursued. There was no question of our love for or devotion to each other. The arrangement worked for us. There were too many cops we knew who had drug problems or broken marriages or affairs and bad relationships because of what they did for a living. We were two independent people who cared deeply about each other. Neither of us wanted to be dependent on each other. I sometimes thought on what life would be like without him. I didn't like it. I occasionally talked to Janet Parkman about that; my fear that I couldn't survive without Ed in my life. Ed's recent transfer from a cadet instructor at the Academy to Chief Investigations Officer of the Major Crime Unit kept him as busy as or busier than the Chief ever had. Our time together was more limited. What time we had wasn't squandered.

I looked at my watch and made my excuses to get to the meeting I had scheduled. The Chief asked me to come up later, we could have lunch. I agreed.

Two hours later, my head full of mind numbing bureaucracy, I made my way back to the top floor. Sam and Fisette were gone. The Chief was still seated in his usual spot. I took the chair I had occupied for sixteen years. We exchanged pleasantries and I talked about the meeting I'd just participated in.

"You've been a stranger." He said quietly.

"Yes"

"Tim, Li Jeng, and Patrick, are out on a case." The Chief said referring to his three new assistants. "They won't be back for a while. I thought you and I could talk privately".

I had known Tim Evans ever since he came to work as the Chief's personal assistant and had been there when Patrick Broussard joined the team after Ed left and Li Jeng Kwan came on board three months before I left to take over Mission.

I nodded.

"You didn't trust me or Mark and Ed in the beginning, and in hindsight, you had good reasons not to. But you hung on and became a fine officer. I know Mission District earned an award as the most improved station this quarter and the brass is taking notice on your work with gangs too."

"I have a great group of people to work with." It had been hard work convincing my officers to work first with a female commander, then to implement my ideas, as well as things I'd learned from the Chief and my dad about good police work. I still remembered what my mother told me, " _Se hicieron dificultades que hay que superar_." _Difficulties were made to be overcome._ There were many where I worked, and I felt we were just getting started doing just that.

"Dave Belding would be amazed at the woman his daughter has become. Don't doubt your own strengths Fran. You can do this. I wouldn't have recommended you for the position if I had any thoughts you weren't able to do the job. And I think you made the right choice, going to Mission, they needed shaping up." He paused. "How about some coffee?" he asked enthusiastically.

I went over to the pot and poured two mugs. Bringing them back I said as I sat down, "I know this trick. I need to tell Li Jeng and Patrick about it. You do this every time you want someone to do something or tell them something you don't think they want to hear. Sam said he was here to help this commissioner head hunt." I sat down next to him. "Ed's on the shortlist for something in Denver and you're worried about what this means for us."

"He is the list. They want him to be the Assistant Chief of Police."

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. "That's wonderful news." I finally stammered out.

"Maria Francesca Belding". You are a one lousy poker player right now. You can't lie to me about this. I can see it in your face."

"I'm happy, but"

"Terrified?"

"In a way."

The Chief took my hands and pressed them to his lips, then patted my top hand. "No one knows I've told you this Fran _._ I wanted you to be prepared for when Ed tells you."

"When are they meeting with them?"

"Right now."

You think he's going to accept?"

"I don't know. He's happy here. He has been from the day he first joined the force, but he needs a challenge, he's not going to get one here. It's too entrenched here, the administration, that is. There are too many old boys ahead of him for promotion; the ones who take the sycophantic positions, telling the brass what they want to hear, not what they need to hear. He'd make an outstanding Chief of Police, you and I both know that. But it won't happen here. Ed won't play the game they want him to so he can move up on the promotions list."

I nodded. I knew exactly what the Chief meant. Ed would always do what he felt was right for his team, not the administration, even if that put his career in jeopardy. He'd done it countless times during the years I'd known him. "He hates golf, you know. It's a good walk spoiled, he says."

"Yes, he would believe Harvey Pennick".

"I have to tell him it's ok to do this."

We sat there silently for a time.

"He's going to want you to come with him." The chief said.

"Probably." I got up from my chair. "Chief, let's take a rain check on lunch. I don't have a lot of appetite right now."

"You have a lot to think about."

"I do and thank you for telling me."

I hugged him before I walked out, got into my car and drove back to the station. I couldn't take the afternoon off and mope and pout on this. I did need to think this out. I dialed a familiar number.

Janet Parkman was waiting for me with a cup of tea when I arrived. I sat down, drank some tea, looked at her and began talking. Fifty minutes later, I still didn't have a good idea of how to proceed, but I knew I could do this, I had to.

About 4:30 Ed called and asked if I would be free for dinner. He was getting off early from work. I told him I'd meet him at the Balboa Café, where we had our first date, at 6.

Ed's eyes crackled with energy. He was excited. Blake came over with our drinks. We sipped and I waited for Ed to tell me what he had to say.

"I've been offered a job."

I had a large sip of my wine.

"Sam Dwyer and a member of the Denver Public Safety Commission came to my office today. They want me to come to Denver and be one of their Deputy Police Chiefs."

"What did you say to them?"

"I wanted the job, but only after talking with you about it."

My stomach knotted.

"Come with me."

"I know." My voice was almost inaudible.

"You won't though, will you?"

It would be so easy to say yes and be done with it. I loved him. I always would, but I was finally in a position where I could show that I was a good cop running one of the toughest stations in the city and do it well. We had always said we wouldn't stand in the way of the other's success. I wanted, no, I needed, to prove I'd gotten this assignment because I was more than just Ironside's former assistant and Ed Brown's girlfriend.

"I can't. Not right now."

"The timing's lousy." Ed finally said.

"You have to take this job." I replied. "You deserve it."

"I think I know why you won't come with me, but I want to hear you say it."

"I have to prove myself."

"You think after all you've done you still need to do that?" He asked. "Prove yourself?"

"I always had you, and Mark, and the Chief, as backup and mentors. Now, for the first time, I'm in charge. I have to trust myself that I can make the right decisions, on my own, without feeling I have to have someone's approval."

My phone buzzed. I looked at the text. "I have to go. There's been a shooting."

He nodded his head. "I love you. The offer stands to come to Denver, when you're ready."

"I know. I love you too. Always". I got up from the table, kissed him and walked out of the restaurant.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 18 They're Breaking Up That Old Gang of Mine**

 **Part 1: Becoming His Honor**

Mark, Ed, Eve, and I had all done our professional, as well as a great deal of our personal, 'growing up'under the Chief's tutelage. Working with him, we'd discovered our strengths, weaknesses and passions, but no one more than Mark. The Chief had pulled him off the streets, away from the gangs, giving him an opportunity to live his life differently and he'd taken full advantage of those opportunities. I knew the type of neighborhood he'd grown up in. I lived in Mission; Mark, just to the south of me, in Bernal Heights. I knew firsthand how difficult it was for him to have escaped the 'hood'. I'd seen too many failed attempts in my own neighborhood.

The Chief, had been surprised but pleased, when following his graduation from Hastings College of Law, Mark had opted to join the police department instead of immediately joining a top firm. He was a good cop. After all, he'd been trained by two of the best, Ed and the Chief. Like the Chief, he saw what he did as solving puzzles, putting the pieces together one by one until he had completed it. We were even happier when he married Diana Johnson, a fellow law student. Diana had joined Westbrook, Alston and Romero after graduation as a junior litigator. As the newest staff, she took the worst cases, meaning most of the _pro bono_ work, giving the best defense she could to the clients who normally couldn't afford such a high powered firm, hoping eventually she would make partner. After one such case, she'd been threatened by the client because, in his opinion, Diana had 'deliberately thrown' the case. She showed her poise that day in handling the client, who threatened among other things, to knock her 'sorry black butt back to being the office secretary'. The Chief witnessed the incident and told her afterwards she should consider switching sides. Later that week, the District Attorney took her out for a long lunch. At five pm the same day, she submitted her letter of resignation to the managing partner. Two weeks later, having finished up loose ends at Westbrook Alston Romero, she joined the staff of the District Attorney's office. We knew she'd be running the office one day even though she was also the busy mother of twin one year old girls, Sandra and Cynthia.

In the months following the birth of his daughters, Mark appeared restless, pensive. He started reading law journals again during his spare time and began taking weekend continuing education classes. He also talked more about why he wanted to become a lawyer in the first place, to help people and that maybe it was time to act on that and help his community. Most importantly he talked about the injustices he'd seen in the courtroom and how he wanted to change that. In order for Mark to become a Superior Court Judge, he'd have to be an active member of the bar for ten years, meaning his first step would be to make a name for himself as an attorney, followed by getting elected to the District Court. More importantly, he'd have to create a strong network of friends, colleagues and money that could get him elected. After many long conversations with Diana, friends in the profession, the Chief and us, he made his decision. It wasn't that he didn't like being a cop. He loved it, but he needed to do more. He took us out for a very pricey dinner to announce he had taken a position with Burley Hawkins, one of the city's leading criminal law firms at the end of the month. I could tell the chief was saddened by Mark's decision to leave but he took it far better than he had when Mark had finished law school and married.

When that happened, Ed offered to move in be there to assist as Mark had done. The Chief refused, asking a retired policeman friend to live with him. Ed paid him off and moved in, the Chief discovering the change only after Ed came out of the second bedroom in his off duty outfit of jeans and t shirt. The Chief had gotten his driver's license and purchased a specially equipped Jeep with hand controls, along with having the van outfitted with the same controls. His relationship with Katherine had gotten much more serious and he began spending nights out of the office.

For Diana, it was a great relief. She'd never been happy being the wife of a cop, even for a short time. None of us blamed her at all. She lived in fear that there would one day be the knock on the door, the Chief sitting sternly in his chair, to hide his grief, with Ed and I on either side of him, telling her Mark was never coming home again. It was a worry compounded by the reality of their daughter Cynthia having been diagnosed with severe asthma. At first it was thought to be Cystic Fibrosis, but after many rounds of testing, was finally determined to be the latter. It would take some juggling, but Mark and Diana would be able to arrange schedules with the help of her mother to make sure a family member would always be with the girls.

I missed Mark not being in the office. I missed him singing Otis Redding, his bad coffee, his humor, friendship, and generosity. At the same time I knew he was happy with how his life was turning out. He deserved it, every last good thing coming to him.

 **Part 2: Stars and Bars**

I pulled the dress blues out of my closet, smoothing them. I hadn't worn them often since that first day in the Chief's office when he told me, " _Uniforms aren't necessary here_." I'd worn it for some funerals as well as Ed's promotion to Lieutenant and just two years later, I'd wear it today as Lt. Edward Brown became Captain Edward Brown. I looked it over carefully. It was spotless. I'd brought it back from the cleaners the other day along with Ed's and the Chief's. The Chief so rarely wore his, some didn't know he had one. Most thought he only had suits in his closet. He insisted on wearing it today. It was pride mixed with sadness on the Chief's part. He had fought and fought, but the brass was insistent. A Captain needed to be a boss. He couldn't be a subordinate, even with the force of nature that was Robert T. Ironside, advocating keeping him. I knew Ed would receive his assignment immediately following his promotion and that the Chief probably had a good idea of where his best student would go, but knowing the SFPD administration, no one would be surprised if they changed their minds and sent Ed somewhere else instead. Ed could tick off the bosses when he wanted, or needed to.

The Chief and I had planned a surprise party at Giamatti's following the commission. We'd booked the place for the entire day. The Chief and Katherine were handling the food and wine. The Chief had already made chili. Joaquin, the chef at Giamatti's would handle all the other cooking. Kate and Jamie were bringing Ed's friend Ray Chan, who promised to make sushi, as well as a pickup truckload of wine from the ranch, I had secretly sent out the invitations, not an easy task when the honoree was your lover and work partner. Tim Evans, who joined us after Mark left, would keep Ed busy after I disappeared, and the guests were instructed not to breathe a word to anyone, but to be at Giamatti's by 2:30 pm

I showered and dressed, leaving my jacket hanging. The commission would be at noon. The mayor would be in attendance, along with the top brass of the police department and the press. The ceremony would be short, so they said, and family was encouraged to attend. Ed would be surprised when he saw the size of his.

I looked at my wrist. The watch told me I had an hour before I needed to be at the airport to pick up my special guests. I was looking forward to seeing them. I decided to be early, after all I could park my car in front of the terminal and one of the guests deserved as short a walk to their transportation as possible. The drive to the airport was uneventful and I parked directly in front of the baggage claim door. As I got out, the airport cop stopped me, but when he saw me in my dress blues and the detective ID was flashed, he saluted smartly and promised to watch the car. I hated pulling rank on the guy, but I needed to get back to town as soon as possible.

The plane arrived on time, and I was there waiting at the gate when she slowly moved down the walkway.

"Maria Francesca!" She said in her slow rich Kentucky drawl.

I smiled and moved toward Ed's mother. It was my gift to him. She, not me, would pin his Captain's bars on him this morning. He had no idea that she was coming. I couldn't wait to see the look on his face.

"How was your flight?" I asked after we hugged.

"Oh, it was good. I think the cabin attendant was flirting with me for a time."

Sarah Brown had made the flight from Louisville to San Francisco, via Denver to surprise her son. Behind her were Eve, Suzanne, and Sam Dwyer. Sam, resplendent in his Denver PD uniform. More hugs followed.

"Fran, this woman is an absolute gem," Sam said. We must have been up until 1-1:30 am this morning. She has some great stories. Eve and I were laughing til it hurt."

Eve tucked her arm through mine as we walked to baggage check. She looked tired.

"You ok?" I asked.

"It's the life of a mother of a 13 year old girl. She knows everything and I don't. She's been a pain, but Sarah has been a blessing. Sam's promised Daddy he'll play golf with him tomorrow and he's taking Sue with him, so maybe we can talk then."

"It'll be Thursday so Marion will be at the Chinn's."

"Thank goodness for routines," she laughed.

I had planned on dropping them all off at Eve's parents, but the traffic had gotten snarled. It was now 11:15. I hit my siren and light bar, and the traffic parted like the Red Sea after Moses asked it to. I was through the bottleneck, but still running a little behind.

Sarah Brown looked at me and laughed. "RHIP"?

Today I thought, rank certainly did have its privileges and I would use every single one of them to get Ed's mother to Moscone on time.

I pulled up to the front of Moscone Civic Center and dropped them off, Suzanne volunteered to hide Sarah until the last moment, then I went to park the car. I came back to find the Chief in his dress uniform, talking to Mark and Diana, who'd brought Cyndi and Sandi, their twin daughters.

"So your honor, are you ready to view this moment of history?" Ironside asked.

"Chief" Mark laughed. "They can't get promoted unless I administer the oath. My colleagues on the District Bench were relieved when I volunteered for this gig. But especially since my best friend's getting his bars, I would have arm or mud wrestled for this," He turned to look at his wife. "Honey, did you remember to bring my..."

"Robe." Diana Sanger finished. "Yes sweetie, it's in the bag in the dressing room." She jerked a manicured finger towards the door. "Sandi, go get your daddy's robe and help him on with it, will you."

A tall lanky teen ran off without a word, bringing back the requested item a moment later.

"Here you are Dad".

"Thanks baby". He shrugged it on.

Eve and I whistled appreciatively.

Mark smiled. "The robe makes the man".

Eve laughed and turning to Sam, said "You should have seen the lapels on the suits he used to wear. Oh my goodness, they were as wide as the Golden Gate."

"At least I had some style compared to Sgt. Brown Suit". He protested.

"Hey, I trust I meet the grade today". Ed came up behind us, hugging Eve and shaking Sam's hand.

"You look wonderful." I said, and he did. We kissed.

He nodded. "I just wanted to say hello and thank you all for coming today"

"Ed, my parents apologize for not being here, and would like to take us all out for dinner afterwards." Eve said.

"That would be fine."

"Where are Officer Evans and my wife?"

"Here we are Robert," Katherine came up behind her husband's chair, Tim Evans close behind her. A new round of handshakes and hugs took place.

"You said this would be a small affair. I seem to recall they once held a Democratic National Convention in this same intimate space."

"Kate, it matters not what was done, only what is to come."

"I thought I married a policeman, instead, I married a philosopher." She laughed.

A soft chime came from the loudspeaker. It was our cue to find our seats. I waited Ed was up front somewhat blinded by the stage lights before I motioned to Suzanne to escort Ed's mother to her seat.

There was the usual pomp and circumstance followed by speeches. Then they began calling the newly minted sergeants, followed by shiny new lieutenants up for their commission. Then it was time for the Captains. Ed would be one of the first.

"Edward Brown".

Ed looked at me, but I remained in my seat. I looked to my left. Slowly Suzanne Dwyer walked his mother to the steps. Sarah gracefully walked up the short flight and took the box given her by the announcer. She opened it and taking the insignias, pinned them to his shoulder pads. As Ed bent over to receive them, his eyes sought me out. They shone with one emotion.

It was all he needed to say to me.

 **Part 3, Moving Day**

I'd been running Mission District Station for a few months, when I finally had a reason to stop at 750 Kearney and check up on the Chief. It was all professional of course, I had a meeting scheduled with the other district captains at the old headquarters building and I knew it would probably be a good time to see him. I missed him and wanted to know how it was working out with the new team, one that it had been my responsibility to mentor. Department gossip was reporting that he was closer to retirement than ever before. I took the freight elevator to the top floor and walked into the office. To my surprise, Sam Dwyer and another man I didn't know, were sitting at the round oak table with the Chief.

"Fran!" Sam greeted me enthusiastically. He got up from his seat to hug me. "Or should I say, Captain Belding! Congrats on the promotion, girl. Eve and I are so proud of you. Heard they gave you Mission. Tough place to start, your old neighborhood. Tough neighborhood as well. Chief says you're going after Los Reyes big time." He said, referring to a local gang. "Good luck with that."

He introduced the other man as Commissioner Paul Fisette, a Denver City Council member, explaining that Denver Police were looking to headhunt other departments for new hires and they were asking the Chief's opinion on a few names. As Denver's Chief of Detectives, Sam had come because of his need for detectives and his familiarity with the department. I had a strong suspicion that Ed Brown was on that list.

Ed and I had been together eleven years. Fifteen, if you counted the four years we'd only worked together. We'd discussed marriage. Ed had proposed to me because he thought I wanted him to. I replied I had everything and didn't need a piece of paper to prove it. I knew he felt the same way. Both of us had suffered terrible losses in our lives that had caused deep and lasting scars. It colored how we viewed marriage. We were together but kept our own places, friends, and interests which we pursued. There was no question of our love for or devotion to each other. The arrangement worked for us. There were too many cops we knew who had drug problems or broken marriages or affairs and bad relationships because of what they did for a living. We were two independent people who cared deeply about each other. Neither of us wanted to be dependent on each other. I sometimes thought on what life would be like without him. I didn't like it. I occasionally talked to Janet Parkman about that; my fear that I couldn't survive without Ed in my life. Ed's recent transfer from a cadet instructor at the Academy to Chief Investigations Officer of the Major Crime Unit kept him as busy as or busier than the Chief ever had. Our time together was more limited. What time we had wasn't squandered.

I looked at my watch and made my excuses to get to the meeting I had scheduled. The Chief asked me to come up later, we could have lunch. I agreed.

Two hours later, my head full of mind numbing bureaucracy, I made my way back to the top floor. Sam and Fisette were gone. The Chief was still seated in his usual spot. I took the chair I had occupied for sixteen years. We exchanged pleasantries and I talked about the meeting I'd just participated in.

"You've been a stranger." He said quietly.

"Yes"

"Tim, Li Jeng, and Patrick, are out on a case." The Chief said referring to his three new assistants. "They won't be back for a while. I thought you and I could talk privately".

I had known Tim Evans ever since he came to work as the Chief's personal assistant and had been there when Patrick Broussard joined the team after Ed left, and Li Jeng Kwan, better known as Jenny, came on board three months before I left to take over Mission.

I nodded.

"You didn't trust me or Mark and Ed in the beginning, and in hindsight, you had good reasons not to. But you hung on and became a fine officer. I know Mission District earned an award as the most improved station this quarter and the brass is taking notice on your work with gangs too."

"I have a great group of people to work with." It had been hard work convincing my officers to work first with a female commander, then to implement my ideas, as well as things I'd learned from the Chief and my dad about good police work. I still remembered what my mother told me, " _Se hicieron dificultades que hay que superar_." _Difficulties were made to be overcome._ There were many where I worked, and I felt we were just getting started doing just that.

"Dave Belding would be amazed at the woman his daughter has become. Don't doubt your own strengths Fran. You can do this. I wouldn't have recommended you for the position if I had any thoughts you weren't able to do the job. And I think you made the right choice, going to Mission, they needed shaping up." He paused. "How about some coffee?" he asked enthusiastically.

I went over to the pot and poured two mugs. Bringing them back I said as I sat down, "I know this trick. I need to tell Jenny and Patrick about it. You do this every time you want someone to do something or tell them something you don't think they want to hear. Sam said he was here to help this commissioner, what's his name, Fisher? Fisette head hunt." I sat down next to him. "Ed's on the shortlist for something in Denver, and you're worried about what this means for us."

"He is the list. They want him to be the Assistant Chief of Police."

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. "That's wonderful news." I finally stammered out.

"Maria Francesca Belding". You are a one lousy poker player right now. You can't lie to me about this. I can see it in your face."

"I'm happy, but"

"Terrified?"

"In a way."

The Chief took my hands and pressed them to his lips, then patted my top hand. "No one knows I've told you this Fran _._ I wanted you to be prepared for when Ed tells you."

"When are they meeting with them?"

"Right now."

You think he's going to accept?"

"I don't know. He's happy here. He has been from the day he first joined the force, but he needs a challenge, he's not going to get one here. It's too entrenched here, the administration, that is. There are too many old boys ahead of him for promotion; the ones who take the sycophantic positions, telling the brass what they want to hear, not what they need to hear. He'd make an outstanding Chief of Police, you and I both know that. But it won't happen here. Ed won't play the game they want him to so he can move up on the promotions list."

I nodded. I knew exactly what the Chief meant. Ed would always do what he felt was right for his team, not the administration, even if that put his career in jeopardy. He'd done it countless times during the years I'd known him. "He hates golf, you know. It's a good walk spoiled, he says."

"Yes, he would believe Harvey Pennick".

"I have to tell him it's ok to do this."

We sat there silently for a time.

"He's going to want you to come with him." The chief said.

"Probably." I got up from my chair. "Chief, let's take a rain check on lunch. I don't have a lot of appetite right now."

"You have a lot to think about."

"I do and thank you for telling me."

I hugged him before I walked out, got into my car and drove back to the station. I couldn't take the afternoon off and mope and pout on this. I did need to think this out. I dialed a familiar number.

Janet Parkman was waiting for me with a cup of tea when I arrived. I sat down, drank some tea, looked at her and began talking. Fifty minutes later, I still didn't have a good idea of how to proceed, but I knew I could do this, I had to.

About 4:30 Ed called and asked if I would be free for dinner. He was getting off early from work. I told him I'd meet him at the Balboa Café, where we had our first date, at 6.

Ed's eyes crackled with energy. He was excited. Blake came over with our drinks. We sipped and I waited for Ed to tell me what he had to say.

"I've been offered a job."

I had a large sip of my wine.

"Sam Dwyer and a member of the Denver Public Safety Commission came to my office today. They want me to come to Denver and be one of their Deputy Police Chiefs."

"What did you say to them?"

"I wanted the job, but only after talking with you about it."

My stomach knotted.

"Come with me."

"I know." My voice was almost inaudible.

"You won't though, will you?"

It would be so easy to say yes and be done with it. I loved him. I always would, but I was finally in a position where I could show that I was a good cop running one of the toughest stations in the city and do it well. We had always said we wouldn't stand in the way of the other's success. I wanted, no, I needed, to prove I'd gotten this assignment because I was more than just Ironside's former assistant and Ed Brown's girlfriend.

"I can't. Not right now."

"The timing's lousy." Ed finally said.

"You have to take this job." I replied. "You deserve it."

"I think I know why you won't come with me, but I want to hear you say it."

"I have to prove myself."

"You think after all you've done you still need to do that?" He asked. "Prove yourself?"

"I always had you, and Mark, and the Chief, as backup and mentors. Now, for the first time, I'm in charge. I have to trust myself that I can make the right decisions, on my own, without feeling I have to have someone's approval."

My phone buzzed. I looked at the text. "I have to go. There's been a shooting."

He nodded his head. "I love you. The offer stands to come to Denver, when you're ready."

"I know. I love you too. Always". I got up from the table, kissed him and walked out of the restaurant.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 19 Vienna, City of My Dreams**

I didn't want to do it anymore. I was tired. I'd been a cop since I was an energetic 22 year old, just out of college needing a job to pay off my student loans. It was time to do something different with my life. I craved it like a drug, but I didn't know what. The discovery came after I returned from my second trip to Denver to help Ed once more. I'd seen Ed just a handful of times since that evening at the Balboa Café. The first time was just four months after I saw Sam Dwyer in the Chief's office. Sam had been killed in the line of duty. Ed asked if I would come help him investigate Sam's death. I agreed. Eve was like a sister to me, Sam a good friend, and I was Suzanne's "tia". How could I refuse to help find Sam's murderer? Along with the Chief, and Mark, we found the killer; an eighteen year old who had his whole life ahead of him, but had thrown it away with one night of hard partying, making him feel invincible, strong enough to shoot a cop, a father, a husband, a friend. Fifteen to life was a very high price for such a lapse in judgment.

It had been good to see Ed again. To work with him; see the respect he was shown by his officers and staff. He was still heavily involved in anti- delinquency programs, working with the local schools, recreation programs, and employers to provide opportunities for young people. He still played basketball with kids as often as he could, traveling to playgrounds and parks each week to play 3 on 3 or HORSE. The kids and adolescents of Denver were becoming familiar with Chief Brown as well, hoping for a chance to school him in the finer points of half- court basketball. It wasn't all fun and games for Ed. He put in long hours at work and had to deal with the animosity of Assistant Chief of Detectives McManus, who felt that he deserved the position of Assistant Chief of Police more than Ed, as well as City Commissioner Fisette who thought he'd hired someone he could control and influence.

It was the second time I was asked to come to Denver that was more difficult. Ed was investigating the murder of his boss, John Bell. Ironside, now newly retired, Mark, and I traveled to Denver to help find out why Chief Bell had been murdered as well as clear Suzanne Dwyer of two capital murder counts. Once more McManus, now also an Assistant Chief of Police, was interfering with Ed. Fisette was increasingly unsupportive of Ed, and now the Chief, even after Fisette had requested the Chief come to Denver as a consultant and assist in investigating Chief Bell's death.

After loose ends were tied up, we went our separate ways. Eve remained in Denver for a time as Suzanne started treatment for alcohol abuse. Mark was going back to Diana and the girls, the Chief and Katherine back to the vineyards to see what damage the heavy rain had done to their vines.

I had nothing to return to but the job. But I found that some of my old demons came back in my luggage from Denver. I'd been told that even with the success of my earlier treatment years ago, something unexpected could trigger a return. I'd been Commander of Mission District for almost four years. I was doing good work. I was respected by my officers and the administration and my name had appeared on several short lists for promotion. Police work no longer nourished me. I was unhappy and the only thing that gave me some peace was painting. Thanks to Eve opening Sam's Place, a small gallery for local artists, I knew I could sell my paintings. It made me begin to be more serious about painting. I thought more and more about painting in another town; Taos, New Mexico, Seattle, or Boston. But there was that familiar problem of how to pay for it

Then my guardian angels appeared.

It was an invitation, delivered in the old society way. Fong Li, longtime aide to Howard Whitfield, came to my office door. He handed me a heavy vellum envelope. Opening it, I read the note written in Howard's brisk hand.

Fran,

Marion and I request the pleasure of your company for dinner this Friday evening at 7:00.

Fong Li will pick you up at your apartment at 6:30 pm. Dress is informal. Please bring your art portfolio along, maybe a sketchbook or two. We're having a friend from Vienna, Austria, as a guest and would like to introduce him to our favorite local artist.

Howard Whitfield

I looked at Fong. "I can't send regrets for this, can I?"

"No, miss."

I sighed. "I'll see you at 6:30 Saturday then."

"Yes, miss." He bowed slightly and left.

The week dragged for me. I was handling the department administrivia less and less well and my nights were sleepless. Saturday dawned clear and bright, and I found myself in my small studio room looking at my portfolio, trying to narrow it down to what I thought were not only the best pieces, but the most intriguing ones as well. I decided maybe an in progress watercolor might be appropriate. I pulled out paints, brushes and a canvas and began work on a sketch I'd made just last week. At 5:30, I threw myself into the shower and pawed through my closet trying to find something dressy but informal. I'd been to enough "informal" dinners at the Whitfield's over the years to know how the word was defined.

As promised, Fong Li was at my door promptly at 6:30 to help me carry the portfolio and new canvas out to the car. He pulled up to the back entrance, a sweeping curve revealing the Second Empire design of the house. I was greeted at the door by Marion Whitfield, who at 71 was still energetic and lithe. She took my arm and we walked into the drawing room. Howard was talking to the Viennese visitor, and on a nearby couch sat Katherine Ironside and the Chief next to her.

"I invited Katherine because she's just accepted a position on the Trust Board, so of course she brought Bob along." Howard said as a way of greeting. "Francesca, you look beautiful", he said bussing my cheek. He introduced me to his guest, Hans-Jürgen Rauschenberg. "Hans-Jürgen is with the Akademie der bildenden Künste Wien. The Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna. We've known each other for years."

Rauschenberg took my hand, bent low over it and kissed it. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain Belding, yes?"

"Fran will do nicely." I replied.

"Hans-Jürgen".

"What will you have to drink, Fran?" Howard asked.

"Chardonnay will do fine, unless the Chief brought something from the winery."

The Chief nodded approvingly. "Give her the new cabernet and I'll take a glass for myself, Howard."

Howard poured glasses of dark red wine for me which I took over to the Chief. He took my free hand and clasped it tightly.

"How's retirement treating you?" I asked him.

"Well, I thought I 'd never say this and I'll deny it if you tell anyone, but I'm enjoying myself not having to solve all the problems of the SFPD every day, watching grapes grow, wine get made, and being able to spend time with this lovely woman." He said, looking at Katherine, "You?"

"Busy. I miss being able to come talk to you when I'm at headquarters."

"You remember how to get to the vineyard don't you?"

I shook my head, "Yes".

"Well, don't be a stranger. Jamie's got some ideas about murals in the Tasting Room. Are you interested?"

I was and promised I'd be in touch with him to see what could be done and when.

We spent the time before dinner engaged in conversation, then Bonita, who had been with the Whitfield's as long as I could remember, came to the door and announced dinner was ready. After dinner, Howard suggested we go back to the drawing room for coffee and brandy and hopefully, an art exhibit. As we walked in, I saw that Fong and Bonita had taken my portfolio while we ate, disassembled it and put it on easels around the room. I watched the reaction of everyone, but focused on Rauschenberg's. He lingered at each one, contemplating all aspects of it.

He turned to Howard Whitfield and the two had a brief conversation in German. Rauschenberg turned to me. "You show amazing diversity in your art. You are like a chameleon." He pointed to the one in front of him. It was one of the pictures I'd taken at Stow Lake so many years earlier using Mitsu Yoshikawa's Hasselblad. From that photo, I painted the early morning scene; an early autumn fog rolling off the lake with the faint outlines of the oak trees, just turning color, breaking through the clouds like flame tips.

"Absolutely incredible." He exclaimed after looking at the last canvas. "You show such insight. Howard says you are largely self-taught. There is some impressionist influence, American abstraction, realism, but also Japanese, I am most impressed Fraulein."

I explained my friendship with Mitsu and my early efforts photographing. He knew Mitsuko-san and had mounted an exhibition of his work at the Academy last winter. "Do you have any sketches?" He asked. "I would like to see your process very much."

From my bag I took out the sketchbooks I'd brought and handed them to him. He examined them with total absorption. Then he asked me if I didn't mind the others looking at it. I said it would be fine, The Whitfield's and Katherine gathered around the Chief's chair while he turned the pages. Eventually they would find the sketches I'd done of them at work or at home or on trips. Some were posed, but most were informal.

Marion gasped with delight when she saw the sketches I'd made of their family. In one, Suzanne was a loose limbed, long haired adolescent, dangling upside down from a tree. Eve and Sam were caught laughingly kissing over coffee. I had found Fong Li in a moment of abject joy and Bonita singing gospel. There was a portrait of Marion and her friends playing mahjongg and Howard scowling over his bridge hand.

I hadn't forgotten the Chief. There was the label I created for Chateau Ironside. I had turned him into a wise but joyous Bacchus with a wreath of grapes and leaves cascading down into a very unruly mop of curly hair. I captured the moment Katherine sat in his lap as the wedding processional blasted out, "Everybody Dance Now" as well as his mercurial mood changes as he worked through a case. There were pictures of Mark, his girls, and Diana, and a series of Ed sketches.

I showed him playing basketball with kids, rock climbing, and very happy. There was the one that started it all. "Ed Brown Surveys the World from 750 Kearney." I caught him in early morning with coffee in hand, tie loose, collar open. He looked at the view of his city from the window seat under the arch window. One foot rested on the seat and he leaned into that leg like a runner. There was satisfaction showing in his face. Once more a case had ended well. It was the sketch I loved more than anything, the drawing that caused Ed to suggest I take an art class; the sketch that put everything in motion for me. I put it in every single sketchbook of mine. Ed was always with me.

The evening ended pleasantly, Rauschenberg asked if we could meet for a late breakfast the next day. I agreed. We decided on a time and place. Fong took me home and promised that he would return all the portfolio pieces the next day, when he picked me up for breakfast, then shyly asked if I would make a copy of the sketch I'd made of him. I told him it would be ready the next day.

Very late Saturday morning, we met at small taqueria near my apartment. Ordering coffee, we sat in a small sun dappled patio in the back of the restaurant.

"This reminds me of some of the heurigen in Vienna." He began. "Small and intimate, with good food and drink."

We chatted about our jobs. Rauschenberg told me his connection with the Art Academy. "I am the Director of Admissions. The one who makes certain only the best students come.

"So that's why you're here in San Francisco? Selecting the best?"

"Yes. There are several potential students I will be meeting over the week here in San Francisco. The Academy is very particular about who they take as students. Just like your Julliard music school, we wish to provide the best education possible, so we are most careful about who will get, how do you say it, a slot?"

We switched the conversation from art school to art in general and then to Vienna. Hans-Jürgen was born and raised in the city. He extolled its virtues. Vienna was a place with art as the core of its soul. Music, dance, painting, writing, sculpture, theater as well as the more contemporary arts, all had a place to thrive in his city. He loved going to the Volksoper and to museums, but mainly he enjoyed walking around town with a sketchbook recording images in the numerous parks, cafés, and shops. He described Vienna as a "new/old" city.

"We have so much tradition there, yet, so much that is new and exciting. There is so much energy. It is like this city in many ways. Transformative, it changes people because they change it. Vienna I think is a good place for someone like you Fran."

"Did you audition me last night?" I asked.

He raised his eyebrows and smiled. "An interesting way to put it, but yes, I did, only unofficially of course."

"Did I pass the audition?"

"Yes, you did. It's a pity you haven't applied."

"I have a job. I can't afford to pack up and move unfortunately"

"Your job makes you unhappy." He said firmly.

"How would you know?"

"Very simple. I watched when you were asked about your work. You sounded tired, frustrated, when you answered. There was no joy in you. But when you were talking about your art, there was a different person in the room, full of energy and joy. That was a woman I wanted to know; Fran Belding the artist."

"Are you hitting on me?"

"No, I am not striking you."

I laughed. He got what I meant and joined in.

"What would it take you to leave this place, this job, and do something no, something you truly would enjoy?"

"I'd have to win the lottery."

I walked home from the restaurant, considering what Rauschenberg had said. I did have some savings but nowhere near enough to move to Vienna for even a month. It was an expensive city, I'd heard. I could afford living here, in the city because of my job, and the fact I lived in a rent controlled apartment. Hans- Jürgen made a good point; maybe I should look at some other schools closer to home, take a leave of absence for a time. I could afford that much.

I climbed the steps, opened my door and realized I needed to do some serious work inside. I scooped up clothes and ran them through the washer. I did the same with the dishes, filling the dishwasher. I got the mop out and made a serious attempt to reduce the dust rabbit population in the rooms. I thought of Vienna all the time I cleaned. Maybe the bank would give me a loan and the department a leave of absence for a year?

A loud knock brought me to the door. I wasn't dressed for visitors. I was wearing a paint and clay stained San Francisco Giants t shirt and equally as stained jeans. Cleaning and painting were on my agenda, not visitors. I opened the door.

"Chief, Katherine, come in, please. This is unexpected," I stammered.

"I always wanted to see where the artist worked." Katherine said in her perfectly modulated voice. "What a charming place you have Fran."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Can I get you anything?"

"You have any wine?" the Chief asked.

I opened a bottle of his Cabernet Franc and brought two glasses over with it. I poured a glass of water for myself. The Chief poured wine for himself and Katherine. We clinked glasses and drank.

"I am here, at the request of the Whitfield Trust." Katherine paused. She sat down my couch, motioning that I should sit next to her. She reached for my hand. I sat down next to her. She continued to hold onto my hand. "Fran, there was a purpose to last night's dinner that you weren't told about."

"Kate, just spit it out", the Chief growled.

Katherine gave her husband a warm tolerant smile. "Yes, I will." She looked at my face.

"Hans-Jürgen has told you why he's in San Francisco hasn't he?"

"Yes, he's looking at applicant portfolios for the Academy. We were laughing about his telling me I had passed his audition last night at Whitfield's and ….."

Kate handed me a 9x12 envelope marked with the school crest and address. I opened it. There was a large packet of information and a letter. I opened the paper with trembling hands.

Dear Ms. Belding:

Greetings! It is with great pleasure that the Faculty and Administration of Akademie der bildenden Künste Wien, The Academy of Fine Arts, Vienna, offers you a seat for the Winter term as a graduate student in Fine Arts. Enclosed are materials you will need for preparation, including your visa application and residency in Austria.

Congratulations on your acceptance. We look forward to your arrival.

Sincerely,

Hans-Jürgen Rauschenberg

Director of Admissions

Academy of Fine Arts, Vienna

"But how, I didn't apply there. I can't afford this." Then I caught a glimpse of the Chief. "You set me up!" I exclaimed.

"You did say she'd catch on quickly Robert".

"She's a detective Kate, and a pretty fair one. I trained her, you know" Her husband grumbled.

Kate handed me a second envelope. "I told you I was here on behalf of the Whitfield Charitable Trust."

Dear Ms. Belding:

The Howard D. and Marion R. Whitfield Charitable Trust was established in 1979 for the purpose of making the arts a bedrock of our community. The trust does this through supporting arts initiatives in our public schools, and providing financial support to our arts institutions. Additionally, we allow artists to explore, create and exhibit their work while providing support and services to assist in career development. The members of the board are pleased to award you a grant totaling Two Hundred Thousand Dollars (USD), for the purposes of furthering your art through travel and study at the University or Conservatory of your choice for up to 24 months.

For the Board,

Katherine Wainwright Ironside

"There's one more letter for you to read. It's from Marion". Katherine said gently.

"This is all too much. I can't accept this. I don't deserve it."

Reluctantly I took the third letter from Katherine, handwritten in Marion's beautiful calligraphy.

"Dearest Maria Francesca,

You are probably feeling completely overwhelmed by the board's and our decision in helping you achieve your dream of being able to paint and do nothing else for a time but study art. When you first entered Howard's and my lives, you were a woman trying to become healthy after that terrible assault and you used your love of painting and drawing to recover. What we didn't know at the time is what an important part of our family you would become.

Each time you have done something for the family, you refused any reward or compensation. You would smile at Howard and me and say, "Difficulties were made to be overcome" and you were happy to have helped us through those times.

Now, it is our turn to help you. We have arranged for you to have adequate funds to go to school and live in Vienna, the city I grew up in; a city that loves artists. In addition, we've also set up the opportunity for you to study German, so that you will feel more comfortable on your arrival there.

You may be wondering where you can live. In my opinion, Vienna is the world's best city to live in, but it is expensive. We have a home in Grinzing, just outside of the Vienna city center. When we were on our honeymoon, we went there to meet my parents. Howard loved the area so much, he promised to buy me a house there. On our twenty fifth wedding anniversary, he gave me the deed. It's away from the city, but close enough that you can use the tram to get to classes and have fun as well. I hope you will make our house your home while you study in Vienna.

Alles Liebe,

Marion

I got up dumbly, eyes blurring, scattering the papers as I got up. I walked to the back porch and looked out in the late afternoon. I heard the sound of the Chief's wheelchair behind me.

"It's a lot to consider." The Chief said.

I sat down on a small bench and the Chief rolled his chair next to me. We sat like that for a while. Finally I found my voice. "This is better than a Betty Ford intervention, I guess."

"It's a wonderful opportunity for you."

"I can't do this. I can't take the Whitfield money. It's wrong. I haven't earned it."

"Maybe this will change your mind Fran." The Chief pulled out a folded paper from his inside jacket pocket. "Read it. Then tell me how you didn't earn it." The email was dated May of this year.

Dear Howard and Marion,

Thank you for introducing me to the work of your friend Maria Francesca Belding. What a gift she has! And you say that she is largely self–taught? Amazing. I showed the slides you sent me to my colleague, Mirella Augliari, the head of our art department. She would be most pleased to be her mentor should she choose to come. I would like to meet your Miss Belding when I am in your city in July. I realize that we normally require an admission examination for acceptance, but her skills are so impressive that Dr. Augliari agrees with me that she should be recused from it.

Kindest Regards to your family

Hans-Jürgen

"You have a talent that you're keeping under a bushel basket. People who love and care about you, who have become your family; want you to have this opportunity. You can do two things, go to Vienna and see how good you really are, or continue doing what you're doing now and be miserable." The Chief said with his usual gruffness. "It's your decision; I hope you'll make the right one. You may never get the opportunity again."

I nodded. "How long do I have before I have to make a decision?"

"The next board meeting is August 10th Fran." Katherine broke in. She had slipped into the doorway without my noticing. "They'd like to have your decision before then."

"That gives me fifteen days to think on it."

"It does. We'll show ourselves out. And Fran, if you need to talk it out, I'm here."

"I know. Thank you Chief."

I stayed out on the back porch thinking about what had just fallen into my lap. I had told Hans-Jürgen jokingly that I needed to win the lottery in order to go and I'd just gotten the winning numbers. I had a place to stay and someone willing to teach me. The generosity was overwhelming.

The sky was darkening when I went inside and found my phone and dialed. At the other end I heard the familiar low tenor with just a touch of Kentucky still in his voice.

"I need to talk with you about something. Do you have time for a long story?"

"Yeah, give me a moment. I just stepped in the door. I want to put away the hardware, change my shirt and get something cold to drink."

He took the phone with him as I heard the sounds of a shirt being taken out of the closet, the clink of ice cubes into a glass followed by a popping noise and finally the settling of his long body into the leather chair by the fireplace.

"How's the view tonight?"

"Mule deer are out feeding right now. Freddie and Boss are sitting like idiots on the deck wanting to chase them. Gonna have a sunset. So, tell me a story".


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 20 The Artist's Life**

The Whitfield Trust money allowed me to apply for retirement. I could pay my bills and spend time preparing for the Academy. I had an awful lot of work to do. First, was giving my two week notice and spending that time tying up loose ends at Mission. I liked my people; but I was happy to turn the station over to Colin Moore, a friend from academy days. I didn't want any fuss when I left, but they threw me a party at Giamatti's that touched me a lot. I renewed my passport and began the process of applying for my Austrian visa. While I waited for it, I took daily language lessons at the Goethe Institute and spent time with my friend John Austin, who critiqued my canvases and sketches. I spent time sketching for new sculptures. I wanted to show I'd been accepted at the Academy for my talent. Marion and Howard Whitfield served as my language coaches. They stopped speaking English and forced me to use my beginner language skills. I escaped to the kitchen only to discover that Bonita too, spoke better German than I. Using words I could understand, Bonita explained that she and Fong Li accompanied the Whitfield's to Grinzing and she had speak German in order to be able to shop. I redoubled my efforts to learn a language that struck my Mexican side as distinctly unmusical.

Marion had decided that we would be in Vienna just before Christmas, so I could spend time becoming familiar with Vienna and Grinzing. In early December, I started saying my goodbyes. I went to Denver to see Eve, Suzanne, and Ed. Eve and Ed always had a close relationship, but she thought of him as the brother she never had. In turn, Ed treated her like a younger sibling, deciding to set her up on a blind date with his administrative assistant, John MacAllister. They hit it off immediately and were now talking marriage. The City of Denver's unique arrangement with the county of Denver, combining the city police with the county sheriff's department, allowed Suzanne a reassignment from the pressures of Central Station downtown to the nearby town of Thornton, where she now served as a sheriff's deputy. To her credit, she was doing good work and staying sober.

It was hard to say goodbye to Ed. He took a week off to be with me, showing me his "town", as he called it. Everyone I met who knew Ed thought he was one hell of a Police Chief. His supporters now included Commissioner Fisette, much to Ed's surprise and pleasure.

Ed had a small ranch just outside of Denver. He had a couple of horses, beef cattle, pigs, chickens and a large garden. He was getting ready for the next phase of life and he wanted to be as self-sufficient as possible. His house was energy efficient. Solar panels provided his electric and his heat was geothermal. Two deep wells provided his water. He was living off the grid. The living room faced the mountains to the west. Four large windows allow you to see the mountains in all their glory. I could see how he loved life there.

Two other people lived there, Patrice Gless, who took care of the stock and ranch, and to my delight, Sarah Brown. Ed invited his mother to come live with him after he'd bought the ranch. Sarah and I spent our time walking around the ranch, talking, working in the garden and caring for the chickens.

Recognizing the need, Ed had become an accredited alpine guide. This allowed him to take mountain search and rescue training. He was called in a couple times a month to aid in a rescue. That was in addition to his ongoing antidelinquency work.

The last night I was there, Ed saddled the horses and we went for an evening ride. We rode to the west end of the ranch and into the foothills, the horses stepping carefully in the new snow, we finally stopped in front of a small cabin with a spectacular view of the mountains and the sunset.

"I designed this myself" Ed said. "I built it with a few of the older kids I play ball with. I needed help with the trusses and they needed a job. Turns out they're pretty handy carpenters. I wanted a place where I could get away, no phone, computer, TV, just me and my thoughts."

He led me inside and lit a couple of lanterns. It was a beautiful structure made of Ponderosa pine. I walked around it while he lit a fire. I could smell the pine resin as the kindling began to take flame.

"It's lovely".

"I wanted you to come here for a long time. No one knows about this place, not even Ma."

From his saddlebag, he brought out two beers and took two glasses down from a shelf.

"I'll split one"

He poured beer into the two glasses and handed me one. We clinked glasses and sipped.

I sat on a bench near the fireplace and Ed joined me. We looked into the flames for a while silently.

"I don't want you to go to Vienna. I want you to stay here. I understand though that you need to do this." He took a small box out of his pocket and handed it to me. Opening it, I found a round filigreed locket on a gold chain.

"I want you to have this. I found it at an antique store and thought you'd like it."

I opened the locket carefully. Engraved was what I'd told Ed the night he walked me home from Colibri, all those years ago _._ _'Se hicieron dificultades que hay que superar_.'

"This is beautiful." My voice was thick.

"May I?"

I nodded. He put the locket around my neck. Resting his hands on my shoulders after he'd fastened it. "I've never stopped loving you."

"Nor have I".

"Can I visit you in Vienna?"

"I'd like that…..very much"

He kissed me. One I felt all through my body. I responded with equal force.

The next day Ed took me to the airport. We were joined by John and Eve. She took me aside while John and Ed talked.

"You're looking very pleased with yourself today, sister Fran."

I smiled "Yep".

"Come to think of it, so's he," she said, looking at Ed. She paused a moment. "You're back together."

"Working on it is a better way to put it."

"Hallelujah! I've been waiting for this day." She hugged me. "I'm going to miss you. Mother wants me to come visit as soon as I can."

"I hope you will. It's your house after all."

"You're going to have to be my interpreter. I never wanted to learn German. Now French, that's my language."

Laughing, I promised her we'd muddle through the shops of Vienna together.

The loudspeaker announced that my flight was now boarding. Ed came over. "All set? Got everything?"

"I think so."

He took me in his arms, pulling me in tightly for a hug. "Don't forget, if you need me, I'm a phone call or an email away. And if you really need me, I'll get on a plane and be there as soon as possible. So go paint up a storm, Fran Belding and come back soon."

My eyes were wet as I nodded agreement. "I'm going to miss you like anything."

We kissed lingeringly and then he motioned me towards the gate. I turned towards him one last time and signed, "I love you". He returned the sign, and I turned to catch my flight.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22 Just Like Hillary and Norgay**

I thrashed in my sleep. I hadn't done that for quite some time. Last night would have been Ed's second night on the mountain and I had been dreaming about him making his ascent. I knew he wouldn't do anything rash and he'd called me the night before the climb started so I could wish him good luck. Still something was not right in my universe.

Maybe too, it was the conversation I had with the Chief and Katherine the night before about the painting. After eating, I'd gone upstairs to my studio and brought down the latest information I had. Lukas Schmidt finished the first set of x-rays and they showed an image that I recognized as a sign of a previous painting, but whose? I needed to talk to Dr. Breguet, but he'd taken a long weekend, making him unavailable. Frustrated, I walked the short distance to the Albertina Museum. I wanted to know more about the world of Camille Pissarro, and who better than the curator of one of the finest collections of Impressionists in the world? Over coffee Dieter Müller and I talked about the artist and his technique.

"The Impressionists violated all the known rules of painting, that you already know." Müller began. "Pissarro especially so, but the question you're asking is about their canvases, yes?"

"How were they prepared and how common was it to find underdrawings or underpaintings?"

Müller sipped coffee before replying. "There were several ways to prepare the canvas during those years. Gesso was not widely used. It was expensive. Very chalky. Not like what we all use today. Many artists would prepare canvases instead by putting on many coats of rabbit skin mixed with glue, followed by layers of white paint mixed with linseed oil. They would then age the canvases for at least a year. Pissarro did that until he made an important friend. He was living in London during the War of 1870. His friend was Paul Durand-Ruel. He represented him; put on exhibitions at his galleries until Pissarro's death and because of that, Pissarro could afford prepared canvases, a rarity for most artists and support his family of seven, even rarer. Pissarro lost several hundred canvases during that war. The Prussians used them as floor mats. They wiped their boots on them. How devastating that must have been, yet he persisted. One other thing about Pissarro's canvases, you know, he believed that if you were doing a painting out of doors, you should paint it entirely out of doors. Which he did most of his life."

"Pollen…"I replied. "There'd be pollen on the canvas!"

"Yes, there would be. But it is a very expensive test to run. I would suggest you consider more closely examining the certificate of authenticity and the provenance. Why are you so interested in this Fraulein?"

I briefly explained the project I was involved in.

"As to your concern about underpaintings or drawings, it would not be uncommon for them to be found in Impressionist work, especially Pissarro. Your question seems to hint you are uncertain as to whether it is a Pissarro sketch under the painting."

"We were not given any of the provenances to look at."

"You have asked Dr. Breguet for the documentation?"

I nodded. "The professor told us that the collector has them."

"You have contacted the museum in Sarajevo of course?"

"I'm expecting a call or email from Dr. Marja Bozič Zadraveč, she was curator during the war."

" I have met Dr. Zadraveč. She spent some time here during the war. She is a most interesting woman and rightly credited for having saved many of the paintings in the Kapic'. She brought many of them to Vienna for safekeeping at a risk to her own life. Sarajevo was not a good place to be during that time. Unfortunately, she could not bring them all."

He looked at his watch. "This has been a most interesting conversation Fraulein Belding. It sounds as if you are following the right path." He finished his coffee. "But I must leave you now and spend some time with eleven year old's who are learning about art. What you are doing sounds more interesting than being with students who would rather be at a Justin Beiber concert or playing soccer. Please let me know if you have any other questions Dr. Breguet cannot answer for you, or you have difficulties with the provenance."

He got up from the table, paid for the coffees, and left. I wanted to learn more about forgeries and about what the Chief had said last night at dinner about forgeries appearing in Milan auctions. According to him, a private collector had been selling forgeries at auction. Sotheby's, Christie's, Abbatiello's, all had been hit. The collector had hired young painters to copy his originals, then sells the copies at auction and puts the originals up for sale later. Recently some paths had crossed. Sotheby's Tokyo sold a copy while Abbatiello in Milan sold the original at the same time.

I checked my watch. It was 2 pm, plenty of time to get to the National Library and do some research. I jogged back the way I'd come, heading across the Burggarten, enjoying the vast green space, to the back entrance of the Library. It was a massive place, one of the true glories of Imperial Vienna. I found it an invaluable resource and a quiet place to work.

 _Corriere della Sera,_ the best-known Milan paper, was online and in the stacks. I looked first in the stacks, finding the articles the Chief had mentioned, downloading the links on my computer for a leisurely read later. I could have done that at home, but who could resist the opportunity to work in a building like this? I found the _Der Standard_ and _Die Presse,_ the Vienna dailies, looking for articles that might hint that Marja Bozič Zadraveč had been in Vienna during that time and what she'd done. There were several. Saving them, I did more research on the Provenance Project, headquartered at the library, looking at the catalogues to see if any works by Pissarro were listed in them, that might have been taken by the Nazi's or their sympathizers during the war. Before I quit the library for the day, I left a card for the director of the Provenance Project. Hopefully Dr. Margot Berringer would be able to shed some additional light on my questions.

After dinner, I handed the x-ray showing the shadowy underdrawings to the Chief, Katherine looking over his shoulder. She took it from her husband examining it with a practiced eye. It was then I remembered she'd studied art history at the Sorbonne. "My dear, can your friend Lukas do diffraction x-ray? And does he do chromatography?"

"I was going to ask Lukas Monday." A diffraction x ray would more clearly show if there was a previous drawing or painting under it and a chromatograph would date the colors.

"Fran, does anyone else feel that something's unusual about these paintings?" The Chief asked.

"My lab partners, Michaela Petersen, and Rolf Sondergaard, have both said something feels wrong. The others are thrilled to have this opportunity to do a full restoration. I am too. I just want to know what it is I'm restoring."

"If you do have a forgery, it would be based on exactly what?"

The composition of the canvas, the materials used to create it, the paint and color palette used, the type of brush strokes. That's just for starters." I replied.

"You said pollen" Kate Ironside said. "There's a test to determine the age of that right?"

"Carbon 14. But I don't know if that's needed yet. First, it's expensive, and second…"

"It would let the forger know your suspicions. What do you know about the collector, Fran?"

"Just that he knows the professor Chief. He prefers to remain anonymous."

"Has any money passed hands that you're aware of?"

"No". I was shocked to think that Professor Breguet would be involved in anything like that.

"That might be getting a little ahead of ourselves. Let's see what the painting will tell us."

The Chief settled himself more comfortably. I knew he thought I was on to something. He couldn't wait to get back into crime solving mode. He opened the notebook I'd been putting together on the restoration, asked Fong Li to make a pot of "real" coffee and to find him some writing paper. I knew it was going to be a long night. Just like old times.

Saturday was a day to show off the city's cultural sites. I took Kate on a tour of the Opera and museums and galleries, along with a few couture stores. Fong Li took the Chief on a neighborhood tour, making sure he met most of the area's vintners. We sampled several bottles of his new favorites. The trunk had been loaded with cases and the Chief told Katherine he had the opportunity to buy rootstock.

"This is what happens when you marry an oenophile Fran" she laughed. You get to visit beautiful places, eat and drink very well, but you bring back unusual souvenirs."

The Chief though was ready to get back to puzzle solving mode. It took Kate all her energy to dissuade him from that, reminding him there would be no new information until Monday.

I woke with a start. The cellphone was ringing. Groggily I answered. "Hello?"

"Fran Belding?"

"Yes?"

"My name is Jann Ambühl, the police chief of Davos, in Switzerland. I am a friend of Ed Brown."

My heart sank. Ed had been climbing with Chief Ambühl, I was immediately awake. "Is, is he, is Ed, all right?"

"There was an accident. He had surgery for a knee injury last evening. He also has some cracked ribs and a mild concussion. Ed is in the best of hands here. He is conscious and has been asking for you. Can you come to Davos?

I looked at the alarm clock. It was 5:00 am. "Yes. I'll get there as soon as I can. What happened?"

"He was attempting to calm an inexperienced climber who had trapped himself. The young man panicked, resulting in the injury to your friend. I would suggest you fly to Zurich if you can. Let me know your flight number and I will meet you there, and then we will take the train to Davos. We will have time to talk more then."

I told Chief Ambühl I would call him from the airport and disconnected. I showered and dressed quickly, packing a few days' worth of clothing and other necessities in my carryon. I included copies of the notes and pictures I had and shoved my laptop in the carry on as well. Going downstairs, I left a note for the Chief and Katherine on top of the kitchen counter along with a thumb drive containing the copy of the file they could use. The original was hidden in my sculpting tools. In the back of my mind, I was positive that they might have this solved before I returned with Ed and all I would have left to do would be a restoration over the summer either of an interesting copy, or a real Camille Pissarro. I woke Fong Li, who quickly got ready and took me to the airport.

I made the first flight out of Vienna with just minutes to spare and by 8:15 am, thinking about Ed the entire time, landed uneventfully in Zurich. I realized I hadn't called Chief Ambühl as promised and now I'd put myself behind schedule. I needed to see that Ed was ok. As I walked down from the gate into the terminal, I heard a voice call my name.

"Fran Belding?" The man asked.

"Yes"

"Jann Ambühl." We shook hands. "Ed said you would be on the first flight out after I called, so I made certain I got here last night as soon as I knew Ed would be fine. The next train leaves in just ten minutes. Is this all your baggage?" He asked pointing to my carryon.

I nodded and he picked it up. We walked rapidly towards the station escalator making the train just as the last call was being said in five different languages. The Chief found us seats in first class and we sat just as the train began moving out of the station.

"How is he this morning? Do you have any news?"

"The nurses tell me that he had a quiet night. He will probably be released soon from hospital."

"What happened Chief Ambühl."

"Jann." He replied. "I like your Ed very much. He is not like other American police officers I have met. He is devoted to Chief Ironside. He was very protective of him during the conference. I do not think that your Chief always appreciated that."

"No, that would definitely be the Chief."

"Ed said he told you how we met. Let me tell you about what happened on the mountain." He looked sharply at me. "You are in need of breakfast and coffee. Our seats will be safe. You should eat and then we will talk more."

The caffeine rushing through me following the first double espresso felt wonderful. I ordered another, and then debated my hunger, finally ordering a croissant and jam.

Jann looked at me. "You were fed on the plane."

"No"

He looked at the menu briefly, called the waiter over and rapid fire ordered.

A short time later, a platter with bread, cheese, and ham appeared, along with jams and butter, juice, and a pot of coffee.

He nodded approvingly as I ate.

"Now that I have been a better host, let me explain what happened."

"You said Ed was trying to help a trapped climber." I said applying jam to a piece of bread.

"Yes, we had spent a night on the mountain. Ed had never climbed the Alps, but he told us about his having climbed several of the "Fourteens" in Colorado". The 'Fourteens' were a group of mountains in Colorado all over 14,000 feet. Ed had climbed three of them with friends and two more with the Park Service on rescues.

"Schesaplana is not a difficult mountain to climb, but you still must respect it and use your head. My friends and I decided to have an easy fun climb. That is why we were staying two nights. We wanted Ed to appreciate the Alps as much as we do. We were making our ascent when Jöri Vetsch, our friend who was also climbing with us, received a phone call from Rettungskolonne Seewis. What you would call a.." He paused trying to find the translation.

"Rescue Team".

"Yes, Jöri is the police chief of Seewis."

I thought of a joke as the panoramic views passed by "How many police chiefs does it take to climb a mountain?" In Switzerland, the answer seemed to be 4.

"What was the problem?" I asked.

"There were two young Englishmen on the mountain above us. Brothers on holiday, thinking they were Sir Edmund Hillary and Tensing Norgay ascending Everest. They had no real equipment, just some pitons and a couple of carabineers, no ropes, no proper clothing, little water and no food, and no experience other than climbing rock walls at their gymnasium. They were climbing freestyle, because they heard someone say once, 'your equipment is a backup plan'. They didn't need any backup, they said. They were Trottel."

"Blithering idiots" I said, but I shuddered to think of the two brothers on the side of a 10,000 foot mountain, thinking they weren't getting off.

Jann continued his story. "Yes, blithering idiots" He smiled. "I like that. These two dunkkopfs get themselves, as the older one said, in " _A spot of bother_." The older brother misses his footing, falls into the wall and hurts his ankle, severely enough that he can no longer climb. The younger brother panics, but is bright enough to use his cell phone to get help. They are hanging by a piton in the wall. Rettungskolonne Seewis is notified to prepare for a rescue as the helicopter cannot come in where they are, because they are under a rock spur and that would be risky for the helicopter crew. Someone in Seewis remembered that Jöri was on the mountain and they contact him. Jöri tells them he's with several experienced climbers and that we can handle the rescue. We decided we could get the injured climber down to a point where a helicopter can pick him and the brother up." He drank some coffee.

"So how is it that your Ed gets hurt? You have been so patient letting me tell the story. We climb to a point where we are just below the blithering idiots. The younger brother is hysterical. He is screaming for help. The older brother, we can hear him tell the brother to shut up. But the younger one will not. He is only 15. It is his first mountain. It is understandable he is frightened. Hitsch and Jöri volunteer to climb the wall first. They are the most experienced. Ed tells us he should go first, not to be a hero, but because he can speak to them and maybe calm the younger brother down. We agree. Ed climbs the wall above the brothers, setting the pitons and the belays as he traverses so we can get there to help. He is talking to the young men all the time, telling them what he will do, encouraging them to be calm because there is a team of professionals ready to help them down. The older brother, Rodney, who is injured, will come down first. He does a fine job of rappelling to us with one leg. Then Hamish is prepared for the descent. He is angry at Ed for some reason. He yells "Sod Off" at him. Then the boy panics, demanding Ed help him. There is a struggle for some reason and Ed falls. Fortunately, he is held by the last carabineer and rope, but he hit the wall with such force he was injured. We didn't know the extent until we descended and he complained that he had a very sore leg and a headache. Then he lost consciousness. We helicoptered him to Davos as soon as possible."

We heard a chime. We had spent so much time talking in the restaurant car, we were coming into Landquart. Getting up, we went back to our seats and got our bags, the car doors slid open and we were on the railway platform. We would change trains here for one to Davos. Jann said. I was less than an hour from Ed.


	23. Chapter 23

_Thank you Mounty for all the sketches and climbing expertise as well as selecting the right mountain Ed needed to climb._

 **Chapter 23 Friends and Lovers**

I tried to appreciate the incredible scenery as we made our way to Davos, but I was too busy thinking about Ed. The train passed through Schiers and when I met Ed's friend Hitsch, I would tell him I'd found it not only on the railway map, but had seen it. I was glad that Jann insisted on my eating earlier, because now my stomach was tied in knots. I was anxious to see Ed and find out what had happened; exactly how he had hurt himself this time. Jann pointed towards a group of mountains far off in the distance.

"Schesaplana", he said, referring to the mountain they had been on, "is that way".

I nodded, though I couldn't make out which mountain he was pointing at.

The train eased through the ski town of Klosters, then made its way through the mountains again to Davos. The scenery was awe inspiring. I could see why Ed had been so eager to climb here. As we traversed steep serpentine turns, the train seemed to come so close to the mountains, I thought I could just open the window and touch them. Snow still gripped several peaks. Houses clung to the sides of the hills with small well-kept gardens or herds of livestock. Pulling a notebook out of a pocket, I began to rapidly attempt to capture what my eyes had seen. It would be good to take my mind off for a while off of Ed. Jann Ambühl had another idea.

"Ed said you were concerned about a project you are working on. That you thought it could be a fake."

I put down the notebook. "I don't know. There's no definite proof yet, there's just a feeling…"

"Once a police officer, always a police officer, correct, Captain Belding?"

"How did you know?"

"We talked about many things on the mountain. Ed talked about a woman whom he was willing to wait for to share a life with. When he asked for you, I did what anyone would do in preparing to meet a stranger; I googled you."

I broke out laughing. But felt a pleasurable stirring sensation at Ed's words.

He talked about his own experience with the international art scene. Davos was the home of the World Economic Forum as well as one of the premier winter playgrounds for the rich and famous, Ambühl knew many of the artists and art dealers in town and offered to introduce me to them. I agreed. Arriving in Davos, we were met by one of his assistants at the railroad station. He silently took our bags, placed them in the trunk and took us to Spital Davos. Jann had explained to me that the orthopedic staff was made up of several members of the Swiss Olympic Medical Team. They were used to dealing with climbers and skiers.

Ed's room was on the third floor of the hospital. Before leaving, Jann promised to bring Hitsch and Jöri tonight to see us before they went back to their jobs tomorrow.

"I will arrange for you to have a light dinner, what we call a "café complet", in the room with Ed tonight. And now, I must go to work as well. The hospital knows you are here and so the arrangements have been made for you to stay until the doctor says he can be released."

I thanked him for his kindness and he left. I settled in a chair near the bed, pulled out my notebook and waited for Ed to wake.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed before "Hey".

I looked into his face "You promised me you weren't going to fall."

He smiled. "I didn't count on a panic stricken fifteen year old who thought he was Sir Edmund Hillary."

I kissed him holding our faces close together for a time.

"Who told you I was here?"

"Jann said you'd asked for me last night. He called me early this morning, suggesting that I come as soon as I could. But you don't look like you're at death's door. It was nice you made me your emergency contact though."

His eyes brightened. "I'm glad you came. I wanted to see a familiar face."

"So" I asked. "How long will you be here?"

"Doctor hasn't said yet. Thought I broke my leg when I slammed into the wall, but it was the kneecap. I was lucky. Just a real ugly bruise and a lot of swelling. No climbing for a while. The kid spun me around pretty good after I smacked the wall. Hit my ribs. Doc thinks they're just bruised too ."

"Ed Brown lives to fight crime another day. Does Sarah know?"

"No, I thought I'd call ma tomorrow, I'll have a better idea of what's going on."

I disagreed with him. It was already afternoon here, and Sarah was just starting her day in Denver. She needed to know. As I pulled out my cell phone and dialed, Ed gave me a sheepish look knowing that he would receive a few choice words from her about this. Sarah was relieved to hear that Ed wasn't seriously hurt, but as I handed the phone to Ed, I mouthed, "You are in such trouble now."

He took the phone from me and listened as Sarah dressed him down from Colorado, then broke out laughing. "I love you too, ma". He said ending the call and handing the phone back to me. "So what's your plan? How long can you stay? Where are you staying?"

"I've got no plan. I can stay until you're released to fly back to the states and your friend Jann said he'd made arrangements for me to stay somewhere, but he didn't tell me where."

"Ok, you can stay here until they throw you out. The nurses here are pretty strict about visiting hours. I'm not sure they'll let you stay long after 8pm."

"I've been thrown out of your hospital rooms before." I replied with mock seriousness.

"Yes, you have. I remember one time in particular".

So did I, it was at the Craig Institute, the day of his surgery. I had been trying to be cheerful, though I knew how dangerous the surgery would be. He would either be able to walk out of the hospital under his own power or he'd be in a wheelchair the rest of his life. I began to crack. To cheer me, Ed told me the story of the _Little Engine that Could._ My response was to kiss him full on the lips. Some kiss, we both had enjoyed it and it had lasted a long time, until Paul Hunter came in and broke it up.

It had been a busy day for Ed. The therapist had arrived shortly after I had with crutches and giving instruction and practice in using them and how to move somewhat comfortably with his battered ribs. He was pleased with how quickly Ed caught on and treated him like a prize student.

"How many times have I been on these?" Ed mused as he sat down in the chair after the therapist left.

"Too often for my taste".

He pointed to his hospital gown. "You think I can get some pants and go for a real walk?"

I went out to the nurse's station and explained Ed's need. One of the nurses smilingly gave me a scissors. I returned to the room making slashing motions with it.

"Which pair gets cut up?"

"Blue jeans I suppose."

I made the alterations and handed him a t shirt. Shortly afterwards we were in the hallway walking up and down.

I'd met Hitsch and Jöri. They came in the late afternoon just after dinner, bearing a large thermos of coffee, pleased to see Ed sitting up and delighted to meet me. I wondered what Ed had said about me to them? They told stories about climbing and police work. Hitsch appreciated the opportunity to practice his English. Jöri invited Ed back to climb a mountain with them that no young English boy would be stupid enough to try.

Nurses had taken Ed's vitals but had not told me to leave or shown me where I was to sleep, if it was at the hospital. I'd have to ask, but I remained in the chair, my head resting against the bed, Ed's fingers occasionally playing in my hair. It was dark; no new patient had arrived to take the other bed. I was tempted to borrow it.

"Can't stand hospitals", Ed said.

"I know"

"Wish I had an idea of when I could leave."

"Betting it's soon."

"Can I go back to Vienna with you for a while to heal up?"

I nodded, his fingers catching the motion in my hair.

"Good. How long can I stay with you?"

"As long as you can." I said.

"Good. Can we take the train to Vienna?"

"Yes. You'd like the trip. It's a beautiful country."

We were quiet for a time. Then he patted the bed. "C'mon and lie next to me."

I protested weakly.

He patted the bed again.

"I don't want to cause a setback for you by lying in the wrong place. Nurse Ratchet might ban me from seeing you."

"C'mon, live dangerously for once."

I carefully got on the bed, turned in towards him and he slid his arm around me. "I have missed you so much."

"Me too." I turned my head up and we kissed. Then we lay quietly for a time. I started drifting off to sleep.

For better, for worse" he said.

"In sickness, and in health" I replied.

"To love, honor, and to cherish."

"Til death us do part."

"Marry me?"

"Yes."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24 Painting Can be Murder**

When the midnight shift came in to check on Ed, I was politely but firmly asked to leave. Patients needed their rest, the nurse said, handing me a card on which Jann Ambühl had written directions to the Hotel Ladina; ten minutes' walk away. I was in total agreement with her; I needed rest as well, but left reluctantly. The Ladina was a small, family run hotel, a room with a private bath was waiting for me on the third floor and breakfast started at six, the desk clerk told me, as I signed in. I sleepily nodded and stumbled up to my room. My bag had already been placed on the luggage rack at the foot of the bed. I slid my other bag under the bed, pulled the duvet over me and fell into a deep sleep dominated by dreams of life with Ed Brown.

I woke to sunrise over the Alps. I went out onto the room's small balcony and enjoyed the play of light on the mountains as the sun rose. I showered, dressed, and went downstairs for breakfast finding myself joined by Jann Ambühl.

"Chief Ambühl, what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

He sat down, declined breakfast, but accepted coffee. "I thought you would like some additional information from an expert regarding your project back in Vienna. I called my friend Reggie. He is a former forger who now works with us. It is helpful to have someone of his talents in the department. He would like to give you a tour of the Kirchner Museum and discuss your project. He will meet you at 11 in the museum café".

After I ate, I got my bag and walked to the hospital. Ed was already walking up and down the hallway. He smiled at the nurses who were giving his legs admiring looks.

"You're enjoying your therapy a bit much." I laughed at him.

"Great, you agree to marry me just last night and already you're jealous." He said kissing me.

He turned and we went back to the room, Ed eased back on the bed, a nurse came in with fresh water and put a large icepack on his knee, then smilingly asked if he needed a painkiller or anything else. I noticed that the other side was occupied and the curtain drawn.

"It was a good thing you couldn't stay. He came in early this morning; road accident. Nurses say he's very lucky to be here."

"When do you see the doctor?"

"Rounds should be about one. I'm hopeful that I'll be sprung soon. What are your plans for the day?"

"I'm going to meet a gentleman named Reggie. Jann says that he was, 'in the business'. We're meeting at the Kirchner."

"Forgery 101, sounds like fun".

I looked at Ed. His face seemed a little drawn. "How are you feeling today?"

"It hurts a bit."

"Are you getting anything for the pain?"

"Just some Tylenol 3's. I don't want to be too doped."

That was just like Ed, to hurt and not ask for anything. "You **will** ask the nurse for something stronger if you need it, **right**." I pointedly said.

"Yes Captain, I promise." He smiled.

I bent over and kissed him. "You need a shave. You're getting all prickly."

"Better get used to it Fran." He laughed. "I've been a confirmed bachelor for a while. Not shaving when I don't have to is one of the least bad habits I have."

When Ed left for physical therapy, I left too, letting the nurses know that Ed was a tough man, who wouldn't let them know he needed pain medication until he really hurt. I went to the hospital café for coffee. I took it out to a small balcony and sat looking at the mountains, enjoying the view. While I sipped coffee, I looked at my notebook and tried to think of various questions to ask Finch-Smythe. My phone rang, it was the Chief. I hadn't told him what had happened.

"Fran, what in Sam Hill is going on? Kate and I wake up yesterday; you're gone, there's a SIM card with all your notes on the kitchen counter and Fong says he took you to the airport at the crack of dawn because Ed fell off a flaming mountain top."

I updated him on what had happened.

"When are you two coming back?"

"He's in physical therapy right now and the doctor will see him later today. They may let him leave in a day or so. Then we'll go to Vienna. You'll be able to see for yourself how he's doing."

The Chief harrumphed his satisfaction that his prize student and friend would be fine.

"I need to ask you something Chief."

"You want me to give you away?"

"Yes. It would mean a great deal to me if you would."

I'd be honored to. You have a date?"

"We haven't started planning, but probably after I finish my degree. That would be January."

"So, no ideas on where the ceremony will be?"

"Haven't decided. If it's Vienna, we need to file for a license quickly. It can take up to six months because we're not citizens. It would be faster in Denver."

"A January wedding and there could well be a blizzard in Denver. You might as well get married at the ranch. There will be no snow there at least."

I thanked the Chief for his offer.

"I thought you two were going to be unhappy the rest of your lives. Glad to see I was wrong one time."

I was laughing when Kate came on the line. She congratulated me and first talked about the wedding date. "You know, fall term doesn't begin until October. Why don't you come home and have your wedding in late August or early September. You haven't been back since you started your studies. Think about it. Autumn is a beautiful time at the ranch. The wedding will be our gift to you."

I told her that I would talk to Ed about it. Kate quickly changed the subject to the Pissarro.

"Robert and I took Michaela's painting and had that lovely young man in the lab Lukas, do a chromatograph. He rushed the results to us late last night."

I listened to the excitement build in her voice.

"You're familiar with the company Peebo Fragonard, aren't you?

"Yes, we use their paints and pigments all the time."

"You were right to be suspicious dear. Lukas found that the Cramer had been painted using Monastral blue, Phthalo green, and Titanium White, all Peebo Fragonard colors created after 1930. Molly Cramer never used them. The saturation x ray clearly showed an older painting under it. Michaela said she'll ask Dr. Breguet to allow her to view the certificates of provenance for it today.

I waited.

"Rolf is going to have Lukas perform the same tests today on the Genberg."

Michaela, Rolf, and I had spent hours in the lab talking about the artists whose works were on our bench, Monastral blue was a blue we used often. It was a deep opaque shade and when blended with other colors created equally deep shades. Camille Pissarro died in 1903. If any of those colors showed up on one of his canvasses that would mean a previous restoration had happened or worse, like the Cramer, it had been forged.

"Fran" the Chief broke in "why is it no one's been allowed to see the provenances and why aren't they with the painting?"

"Dr. Breguet said the collector feared they would be damaged, or forged, so he didn't provide them."

"But he's seen them?"

"He says he has." I felt something click in my brain. "I'm meeting with a former forger who works with the Davos police later. He might have some answers for us. Tell Michaela and Rolf to be careful. Maybe you could…"

"I'll make sure Michaela and Rolf don't do anything foolish. Maybe they'll let me ask questions for them."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I told him where he could find the key to my locker so he and Katherine could take the Pissarro for testing."

"I don't have to remind you to be careful, do I?"

"You just did and I will."

I got up from the table and started out to find the Number 7 bus and Reggie the forger.

As I entered the café, a small rotund man in a tailored three piece suit with a beard that rivaled that of the Alp-Öhi, the Old Grandfather from _Heidi,_ rose from his table.

"Ah, Miss Belding." He greeted me warmly in English. "Reggie Finch-Smythe. Would you like some coffee? Food perhaps, or should we get down to what you Americans call, 'the nitty gritty'?

I opted for the third choice and off we went to look at paintings. Fifteen minutes into the tour, we stopped in front of the centerpiece of the Kirchner. _Davos with Church: Davos in Summer_. I looked at it, enjoying the colors on the mountains and the church spire that went up to heaven.

"Lovely" I said.

"Poor Ernst Ludwig. He fought in the Great War; had a nervous breakdown. His friends moved him to Davos to save his life. In 37, he found the Nazi's destroyed over 600 of his works. He decided the world was too bleak, didn't want to be part of it anymore and committed suicide. Why am I showing you this painting Miss Belding? Simple. You want to know about forgery and I'm your man." He took the painting off the wall and tucked it under his arm. "C'mon admit it. You're dying to know how a forger really works aren't you, luv?"

We went off to a workroom. Reggie flipped the painting on its front and there was the certificate of authenticity, filled out in the artist's hand. Davos mit Kirche: Davos im Sommer: Ernst Ludwig Kircher 1925. Öl auf Leinwand. Oil on Canvas.

"You can trust me on this dear. This is the original." He went to a storage locker and pulled out an identical painting. He put it on the table along with two thick folders. "This one landed me in jail."

For the next two hours we went over the paintings as Reggie conducted a master class on how to forge a painting. We talked about high speed cameras and copiers and how many forgeries of old masters were caught simply because of the use of the wrong paint or the wrong provenance as we flipped through two thick folders of documents.

"Appraisers are becoming gutless. There's a mate of mine in New York. He bloody well won't tell anyone if they've got an original or a forgery. Afraid he'll make a mistake and get sued for millions; he'd lose everything, poor sod."

We stopped for coffee.

"Essentially Fran, forging comes down to a few things; canvas, paints, closeness to an original. Most forgers today will find an old canvas with the right measurements, age it more, use paints appropriate for the time and then paint something the collector _thinks_ is an original. What makes it more difficult is the history of the painting, the provenance. Where did this painting come from? Who owned it? Who sold it? How much? Were there letters? Pictures of the art with the owner? What auction houses were used? Listings in auction catalogues, all of that." Reggie drained his espresso and made another one. "The provenance is everything. So tell me more about this painting you have doubts about."

We talked until a museum guard came to collect the Kirchner, indicating it was past closing time. My head was stuffed full of information about forgeries. Reggie asked if I'd like to go to the market tomorrow. "They sell everything, including paintings and old paints. Meet me about ten and I'll show you how to age canvas."

I agreed and began the walk back to the hospital, stopping along the way to have a glass of wine and some bread and cheese, digesting both food and information. I was overwhelmed. Hopefully the food and the walk would clear my head enough so that I could talk to Ed.

I was just getting up from the table when my phone rang. It was the Chief.

"I've got some bad news for you Fran. The Vienna police want to talk to you."

"Why?"

"Dr. Zadraveč was found murdered in her apartment this morning. The police have her calendar. They want to know why you wanted to talk to her." He gave me a phone number. "Inspector Vogel is in charge of the investigation."

"Got it" I said scribbling it down.

"Fran"

"Yes Chief?"

"Be careful"

"You too, Chief" I replied as we disconnected.

I paid the check and continued walking towards the hospital. Somehow felt safer talking to another cop when my fiancé the Denver Chief of Police was sitting next to me.

I entered Ed's room finding him seated in a comfortable chair. Laying my things on his bed table, I kissed him.

"What's up babe?" He asked.

I told him about my day ending it with the Chief's news of Dr. Zadraveč's murder.

"Get it done". He said

The inspector was terse and offered no details of the murder, asking only why there was a message on the victim's calendar to call me. I explained what I was doing and what I wanted to discuss with her. He asked I visit him when I returned to Vienna. Promising him I would, we broke off the phone call.

"So how was your day?" I asked.

"I can leave tomorrow afternoon."

I hugged him. That would give me time to go to the market in the morning with Reggie and see how he found old canvases, then have an evening in Davos with Ed before we traveled back to Vienna.

I sat in the chair next to his and we talked late into the evening about my discoveries.

"Don't walk home tonight. Take a taxi. Door to door."

Kissing him goodnight, I promised him I would. The taxi took me to the door of the Ladina. I locked my bag in the hotel safe and went to my room. No one had followed me in a black spy car or disturbed my room and I had a dreamless sleep, excited about tomorrow.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25 Davos

I awoke to another beautiful day in Davos. After breakfast, I went to the lobby, took some money out of the ATM asking the concierge to open the safe for me. I added the contents of my purse, keeping only my expired California driver's license and the cash. I wasn't being paranoid, just protective.

As we walked through the market, Reggie pointed out things to me a successful forger needed to have. He stopped at one booth and held a rapid fire conversation with the owner. I could only pick out some of the words but caught the general gist of the conversation.

"Sorry" he apologized, noting my look. "Bernhard speaks Swiss German. It's a bit different from that Hochdeutsch you were taught back in the States."

Reggie saying that Bernhard's Swiss German was a bit different from the German I'd learned at the Goethe Institute was understatement. This was a unique language. Bernhard smiled from behind his table. "I can speak English if you would like."

"Let's practice our English then, ok, Berni."

"Reggie can be very lazy when he wants to be." Berni replied.

"Come on old man, you just want to be ready the next time those Yank billionaires, Gates, and what's his name, Buffett, come here."

Berni laughed. "What do you want Reggie?"

"This is my friend Fran. She needs some old canvases between 1880 and 1920, French and German, 19 by 19."

"Am I going to get in trouble over this Reg?"

"Naw, no troubles."

"I need some old canvases for a project I'm working on back at school. I would have gotten them there, but my fiancé is in hospital here and I have time to work. I met Reggie the other day and he told me you could help."

From behind his stand Berni pulled out several canvases. "So you want German and French canvas?"

"Uh huh."

"Reggie's told you his secret for cleaning old canvas, has he?"

I smiled.

"Trade secret chum," Reggie winked at Berni.

"Two hundred Francs for the canvases and I'll throw in a couple paintings for you to practice on."

Berni wrapped the canvases and paintings and tied them so I could carry them. By the time Reggie and I had gone through the market and a nearby artist supply store, I had almost all the materials I needed for my project. Reggie and I said our goodbyes. Reggie giving me a hug while handing me his card, asking me to let him know what happened.

"Should you ever need a new career my girl, let me know. I think you'd be good at it." He headed off towards the Kirchner while I went back to the market to purchase a box camera and film, then headed back to the hotel.

The concierge took my packages and placed them in the hotel safe.

He gave me my key and I went upstairs, Ed would be coming back with me later and I wanted to make sure everything was ready for him. Fortunately, the Ladina had an elevator and he wouldn't have to climb steps unless necessary.

I started going up the stairs when I heard a familiar voice from an earlier life. "Fran?! Fran Belding!? Is that you?"

I turned towards the lounge. As he rose from his chair, I could tell that he hadn't changed much from the time I met him. He was still tall, dark, and very handsome. He once offered me a chance to leave San Francisco and go around the world with him. It would have been easy to have left, had Ed not said; "He cares about you a lot, but what about your dreams and ambitions? Are yours the same as his? Can you leave everything and everyone here?" Ed was right. I wasn't ready. Even then he could read me like a book.

I walked into the lounge and we hugged.

"Eric Blair. What brings you to Davos?"

"Better question. What are you doing in my hotel, luv?"

"Your hotel?"

"Well, it's Susanna's, my wife's, actually; been in the family forever. She's the one who runs the place. I'm just the assistant manager; I make nice with the English tourists and it gives me time for photography and movies. I saw your name on the register. Couldn't believe it! What brings you here? Vacation, or is the Chief with you? What about that Sergeant? What's his name….Brown? Is he still the Chief's right hand man?"

I debated what to tell Eric. I decided to be truthful but simple. I told him I'd retired and was a student in Vienna, ending it with my reason for being in Davos, Ed's accident, and the news that Ed and I were going to be married.

"Good God woman! It's about time," he roared with glee. "I even knew you had a thing for him back in our day. Glad the feelings are reciprocated. What do you say that Susanna, you, and I bust him out of the hospital when we can and we'll give you our famous tour of Davos. And spend a couple of extra days here, our treat. It's not that busy at the place now. You can't go running to Vienna that quick. Have a little fun before you go back to school."

"It sounds wonderful, but".

"At least let us pick him up, give you the short tour and see you get on the train properly supplied for the journey."

I agreed to that. I needed to talk to Ed before committing him to more time away from his office. We changed the subject, talking about art and his life as a hotelier until my phone rang. It was Dr. Berringer from Vienna. She'd gotten my note and wanted to discuss it. I spoke briefly and said I would call her back in a few minutes from my room.

"That the Sergeant?" Eric asked.

"No, but it's a call I need to take right now. Will you excuse me?"

"Of course, let me know when it's time to pick him up, ok Fran?"

"And it's Chief now," I replied. "Chief Brown of the Denver Police."

"Well, good for him."

I went to my room and called Dr. Berringer back. I wasn't prepared for what she had to say.

"Your painting doesn't match anything in the catalogues we have at the library. I also checked with the Getty Collection in California and the National Gallery in London. There is no listing of either the Pissarro or the Corbin. I am still checking on the Genberg."

I felt sad that the painting I was working on was looking increasingly a forgery. The cop in me wanted to find out how Dr. Breguet had been duped into this, if he had been. An idea was forming as to why Marja Zadraveč had been murdered, but by whom, that was still a mystery. I needed to bounce some ideas and couldn't wait to talk to Ed. Then I stopped and took a breath. I wasn't a cop any more, even if I was, I had no jurisdiction. But an injustice had been done and I wanted to right it. That's why I had become a police officer in the first place.

An idea started forming in the back of my brain as to how I could prove all this. My phone rang. It was Ed, ready to get out. I could tell from his voice. I told him it wouldn't be too long before I was there. He said he'd be waiting in the lobby.

I came downstairs where Eric was waiting at the desk and introduced Susanna to me. I knew immediately she was the perfect person for Eric. She served as the ground for him to build his dreams on. Piling into their older, but well maintained, Mercedes SUV, we made the short drive to the hospital. Ed was already waiting in the lobby bench as I came in.

"That was fast." He said greeting me with a kiss. "Taxi outside?"

"Even better, I have a chauffeured Mercedes. Are you all set?"

"Yep, this was nice as hospitals go, but even a short stay is too long."

I quickly filled him in about our driver.

"Blair…he was that photographer who wanted to take you around the world if I remember."

"Yes, seems he found someone more willing to do that. You'll like her. Are you up for a little sightseeing and more important, they'd like us to stay for a few days here."

"It would be nice to stay for a little while. Do I have a place?"

"You can share my room. I have two beds in it." I said grinning as he got up from the bench, grinning equally as broadly, maneuvering the crutches under his arms. We walked out, me carrying his bag.

Ed sat in front with Eric and Susanna slid in back with me. "Welcome to Davos, Ed." Susanna said. "Eric has told me a lot about you in the last ten minutes."

"All good, I hope." Ed replied smiling as he turned back to look at her. "How did you end up here Eric?"

"I had an exhibit here at one of the galleries. Suze came on opening night and the next day and on the third day, she wanted to know what was wrong with her that I hadn't asked her out yet. I took her out that night and the rest is history."

"We have two boys; Dario, our oldest, who wants to be an engineer for Swiss Rail someday. He loves trains. Peter, our youngest, believes that he will someday run the hotel when he's old enough."

Eric laughed. "He thinks he runs it already if you ask him".

He will take it over someday, when we are tired of it. Right now, we are not and he must finish school. " Susanna said.

"Petey's got a few more years of school before he can really think about doing that anyway." Eric smiled at his wife." "I told Fran that we'd like the two of you to stay on a few days if you can, our treat. We can show you around a bit and you can catch up on things." Eric said. "Will you consider it?"

Ed turned to look at me. "When do you need to be back working on that painting?"

"I have that appointment in Vienna, but I can change that. It's summer break, I should enjoy some down time."

"Good, because it appears I'm on sick leave until the end of the month. The Chief called me after you did. He talked to Fisette, told him what was going on." Ed didn't like it when other people went ahead and did things that he could have done himself. "Thanks for the offer. It would be nice to stay here. Sorry I won't be much for mountaineering or hiking though."

"That's fine. It's not my favorite thing." Eric broke in. "You play chess?"

"Badly "

"Great, me too. I'm always looking for new players. You still play poker?"

"Of course."

"Ed, I think we could easily find ways of entertaining ourselves while Fran does her homework and Suze runs the place." Blair laughed. "And since you two are staying, let's begin with some wine at one of our favorite places. He turned the car out of the lot.

Eric made a right turn "Are you up for a little mountaineering?" He asked Ed. "We'll take the funicular up to the Jakobshorn and see the view, easier than climbing anyway."

"It's a wonderful way to introduce people to the real Alps. I'm sure across the border in Austria they think they have the real Alps too. You know 'The Hills are Alive', and all that." Susanna laughed. "After we get to the Jakobshorn, we'll have drinks at a restaurant some friends own, maybe a little something to eat too. I think you will like it.

Susanna was right. The view from the funicular was stupendous. Snowcapped mountains surrounded us and we could see Davos become smaller and smaller as we went higher in elevation. Eric pointed out several places Ed might like to climb should he ever return. Leaving the car, I felt the sting of crisp mountain air. Ed whispered to me, "I love mountains like those," he said pointing out at the north. No cable car, no amenities. Maybe I will go climbing here someday."

He put his arm around me and we stood for a time. Eric came behind us quietly so not to startle us. "Ready for a glass of wine?"

"Sounds great." Ed said. We found Susanna and another couple seated at a long picnic table. Bottles of red and white wine, water and cider were on the table along with bread, cheeses, and sausages along with a cake. Susanna introduced the new couple as Alina and Matteo, who owned the restaurant. "Welcome. We're happy to meet friends of Eric from America. We thought you'd like to try some of our regional food and drink." Alina said warmly.

"Would you like a glass of wine? They are from Graubünden; Pinot Noir and a Pinot Gris. The cider is similar to your American style, but there is no alcohol in it." Matteo asked.

As we ate and drank, the conversation flowed freely, politics, careers, art, travels; life. When the sun started to head further west, Eric suggested we head back to the Ladina. The descent was rapid and we were back in the SUV in a matter of minutes. Getting to the hotel, I took Ed's bag from the back of the SUV. We walked to the registration desk and got the room key. It was a different number. I looked at Eric questioningly.

"Blame the wife, she's a horrible romantic. We have room service until 10 pm, if you'd like something for your dinner later. Have a nice night you two." He grinned wolfishly.

We took the elevator to the third floor and walked down to the end of the hall. Opening the door, I gasped. The room was huge. Most likely this was the best room in the hotel with a king sized bed, a small fireplace, and sitting area with a small sofa and chairs. A pair of French doors opened to a balcony larger than the one I had in my room. There was a vase of fresh flowers and a set up with an open bottle of red wine and glasses on the small table between the chairs. We could see a small refrigerator in the bathroom. My clothes were hanging neatly in the closet. It was a most comfortable room. It would be hard to leave.

"They're plotting", Ed said.

"What was the first clue?" I asked.

Ed went over to the bed, put his crutches down and patted the bed. He lay down. "Ahh, this is nice."

I came to the other side of the bed. "What are they plotting Chief Brown?"

"As a trained detective, I believe that they are plotting a seduction. The signs are all there."

I sat down on the mattress. "Seduction? Horrors!" I said in mock terror. "Am I in danger?"

"Yes ma'am. Haven't you ever been in a honey pot before, Fran?"

"No, in fact, you, Mark, and the Chief protected me from that sleazy side of the San Francisco crime scene a lot when we were a team, if I recall. You were concerned about a good Catholic like me would become corrupted.".

"Well, would you like to know how this works?"

I lay down next to him, rolling on my side to face him. "How does this work Chief Brown?"

"Kind of like this Captain Belding." We kissed for a long time.

"And then?"

"Repeat as necessary." He said. His hand found the light switch and the room went dark. I giggled, he laughed, and then we were silent. We didn't need to say anything else.

At 2 am, we discovered that Eric and Susanna left cheese, bread, salsiz, and cake in the small refrigerator for us. It was still too warm for a fire, but we sat on the floor in front of the fireplace and ate appreciatively.

"So, tell me this painting of yours, is it real or a fake?" Ed asked as he handed me some slices of sausage and cheese. I ate them hungrily along with some of the nut cake before I answered.

Pouring a small glass of wine, I handed it to Ed, telling him about my phone call from Margot Berringer in Vienna. My frustration with everything came out. "It's not making sense." I said, pouring wine. "Why was the school given these forgeries? Why was Dr. Zadraveč killed and by whom? And what does the killer hope to gain by all this?"

"Start at the beginning." Ed said as he applied butter to his bread. "You have some paper large enough that we can get this all laid out in front of us?"

I nodded, got up and took several large sheets of sketch paper out of my bag. I smoothed out the folds on the low table we previously had the food on. Between bites of food and sips of wine, Ed took notes as I told the story starting with dinner at Dr. Breguet's home. Two hours later I finished and the food and wine were gone. All the sheets I'd given him were covered with notes, arrows, and circles on both sides. It was the way he'd thought out cases for years.

"Ok, what we've got is more questions than facts." Ed said. "The paintings have been here since the Balkan War in the 90s. Why the pressure to get these paintings restored now? Dr. Zadraveč was considered a hero then for bringing the paintings to Vienna. She's now dead for reasons unknown and by a person or persons equally as unknown. Dr. Breguet told you that an unnamed collector owned these paintings and wants them repaired, supposedly to show at the museum again. When, how and who damaged them? Do we have any confirmation of the museum being bombed during the war? The collector claims to have the provenances but has refused to show them. Remind me again what provenance is."

"It's the history of the painting. Its ownership, where it's been shown; catalogues it might have been listed in. More recently, who had custody of it during World War II; most important for me; it would list any earlier restoration projects." I replied.

"But there's no record of your painting anywhere...?"

"I'm disappointed I don't have a real Pissarro to work on, but more importantly, the provenances the "collector" claims they have for my painting must also be fake. I'm wondering about the other paintings. Chances are very good the other paintings are forgeries. Based on what the Chief and Reggie have told me and what I've learned, I've got an idea why this is happening but no idea on how to force the collector out in the open, and hopefully the killer too. I'm going to need the help of trained law enforcement though."

"If only to keep you out of trouble"

The sun had been up awhile when we woke next. After showering and dressing, we went downstairs to the breakfast room. "I've got a proposition for you." I began.

"Is it as good as the one you made about 5 am?" Ed grinned.

"No, but before we go to Vienna, how about a detour?"

"Would this involve a side trip to the Kapič Museum perhaps?"

"You're a pretty smart cop, fella."

"Trained by the best ma'am. When do we leave?"

"How about Monday? That gives us the weekend here and the Kapič is closed Monday's. It would give us a chance to get settled, see the city." I replied

"Ok, how long we staying there?" He asked.

"A couple of days, depends."

"That sounds good. I'm getting more interested in this world of art forgery. It's something I'll have to have a talk with the directors of our art museums and galleries when I get back to Denver. Now, Ms. Belding, about that other thing we talked about earlier this morning, our wedding. Now that we know where we want to get married, shouldn't we talk to a few people about it, like Kate and the Chief? Eve and John? The Whitfield's? My mother? Figure out a when? An officiant? Maybe Mark would do it, if you'd like a legal wedding."

"A legal wedding would be nice" I replied. "and I'd like Mark to do it. So, it's 9:30 now, that means it's 12:30 am in San Francisco and 1:30 am in Denver."

"We can wait on calling the others until later, but Mark, he and Diana will be up now." The look on his face told me Mark was going to be pranked and Ed was going to enjoy every minute of it. He got his phone out and dialed the string of numbers that would ring Mark Sanger's landline, while I took our coffee out to the balcony so we wouldn't disturb the other diners.

"Mark, it's me, Ed, didn't wake you, did I? Great. Hey, listen, I'm in Switzerland and need some legal advice. That's right, legal advice. No, I'm not in jail. Don't need a bail bondsman. You mean you actually know one? Great, I'll keep that in mind if I ever need bail in Switzerland. Yes, your honor, I'm well aware of what time it is where you are. It's 9:30 here and the sun is shining brightly and no, I'm not drunk, but I'm having a second cup of coffee. You want to hear the question or not? It's serious; I've fallen for a woman here in Davos. Met her in the hospital. Yeah, I had a little mountain climbing accident. I'll be fine. This lady loves me too. It was immediate, like lightning striking. Mark, I've never felt about a woman the way I feel about her. I proposed yesterday and she accepted. I really, really love her and she loves me as much back." He paused to listen to his friend's protestations, and then continued, "She's an incredible, wonderful, talented woman. You and Diana will adore her. My question: we want to get married at the Chief's. Will you officiate? You're my best friend Mark. We want you to do it. Will you?" There was another pause, "What do you mean; what about Fran?" Ed was about to deliver the coup de grace. "She's right here. Wanna talk to her?" He began laughing. I choked on some coffee. I couldn't hear Mark, but I knew he had some choice words for Ed. After a few more minutes he handed the phone to me.

"You know what you're getting into Frannie?" Mark asked.

"Well, I've had a few years to think about it. I think I know. Will you perform the ceremony? It means everything to us that you do it."

"For you two, I'll give you my friends and family rate. Does the Chief know about this?"

"He and Kate offered us the ranch the other day and we'll talk to him after we let you go back to bed."

"When d'you think this is all going to happen?"

"Pretty soon. It's going to be a simple ceremony."

"You lost the right to a simple ceremony girlfriend, the second I found out about it." Diana Sanger's voice bubbled through the extension. "I have waited for this day since I first met you. Have you told Eve yet?"

"Soon."

"I'll call her tonight and we'll start planning. I know Marion will have her say about this. Has Ed told his mom yet? Well, you both have until 6pm Frisco time to do it or I'm going to start making phone calls. You have no idea how happy we are for you two."

"I can imagine. I know how happy I am right now." I replied.

"I want to talk all night with you about this, but I've got to go. I've got court in the morning and Mark has to go to Sacramento, so we need our sleep. Love to both of you."

I echoed the sentiment as Diana rang off. With Kate, Eve, Diana, Marion, and Sarah, my wedding would be in good hands. Handing Ed his phone, I joked all I'd have to do would be to show up. Ed dialed another string of numbers.

"Good morning Chief. Yes, I'm fine. I have a great post recovery program here in Davos. Yessir, Fran's been taking very good care of me. I'm calling because you offered the ranch for our wedding and we'd like to accept the offer. A date? Umm, Katherine suggested to Fran that September might be good. How about the third weekend?" He looked at me, "Is that ok with you?" He mouthed. I smiled an agreement. Another pause while the Chief checked with the keeper of his calendar, Kate.

"Kate says that's a good weekend? Great. Then it'll be that Saturday. Mark is going to officiate and Diana will be calling to start planning things and so will Eve, Marion and Ma. Travel plans? We're going to Sarajevo Monday; flying out of Zurich. Going to visit the Kapič. Just a couple of days, then we're flying straight through to Vienna. Fran's got to get a move on with her project, especially if she wants any say in her own wedding. Kate's leaving Monday for home? Sorry we'll miss her. But you're staying? Good. We'll stay in touch. Can you talk to the Inspector for Fran? Let him know what's going on? Ok. Thanks for everything. See you in a couple of days," he disconnected.

"We have a date and a place and an officiant, a bride and a groom."

"With Mark being the officiant, who's going to be your best man?"

"I thought the Chief."

"Beat you to it. He and I are going down the aisle together."

"Ok, then it's Mac."

Mac was John MacAllister, Ed's executive assistant in Denver. They had become good friends and he was engaged to Eve.

"So, who's going to be maid of honor?"

"Matron, and you know exactly who I'm going to ask. There's no one else I want next to me."

"She's the perfect choice."

"I thought you'd approve."

"After we have breakfast, you can get started on your new profession as a forger" Ed began, "Eric and I are going to play chess. Actually, he and the boys are going to show me the square where they have lifesize pieces. Says the games can get a little intense sometimes. After that, maybe you and I can take a slow walk to one of those sidewalk cafe's for lunch and act like we live here."

When he came back, I cleaned up while Ed called a taxi, giving the driver an address as he got in. A short time later the cab pulled up in front of a shop. The engraved brass address marker said, ' _Julian Blasi,_ _Juwelier_ '. Ed exchanged pleasantries with the owner.

The jeweler said handing Ed a small, beautifully wrapped box. "I hope that the two of you have a wonderful lifetime ahead of you."

"That's my hope as well. Thank you for understanding my situation." Ed smiled as he paid the bill.

"Eric and Susanna are good friends. When he told me your situation, I was happy to provide items for your consideration." Blasi said. "Your selection was, I think, perfect, now that I've met your lady."

We went outside and walked a short distance to a sidewalk café. Ed ordered Champagne. He waited until the waiter had poured a bit into each of our glasses. "This is for you. I hope you'll accept it." He said, handing me the box.

I took off the wrapping paper carefully and opened a velvet box. The inside silk bore the jewelers name in gold and set in the lower part of the box was a beautiful pair of sapphire earrings and ring I had ever seen. "You remembered." I said my voice breaking.

Ed took my left hand "I wanted to do this right. I just can't get down on my knee like I wanted, but Maria Francesca Belding, will you please do the honor of making me the happiest man in the world. Marry me and share my life."

I know he saw the tears as I agreed to marry him again. The patrons applauded us as he slid the ring on my fourth finger and we enthusiastically kissed. It fit perfectly. The ring contained four small bright blue stones in an antique gold band. Years ago, I told him I didn't want a diamond; that if we ever did marry, he could give me a sapphire instead.

"I wanted this to be a surprise. When he and I went off with Matteo yesterday, Eric called Julian."

I remembered how Eric and Matteo strolled into the bar. The game was on between Juventus and Marsailles, they wanted to watch it. Eric called out to Ed to join them. When they came out, Eric and Ed were acting like dear old friends. My mind wandered back to their first meeting years ago. They weren't friendly then. I'd wondered what had changed. Life with Ed Brown was going to be interesting.

"Why don't we go back to the hotel." Ed said. "I can put my leg up and read while you're showing me the artist at work."

I agreed. Finishing the wine, we got up and slowly made our way back to the hotel, Ed deciding he could manage the walk. I got my materials back out on the balcony. For the rest of the day I carefully removed the heavy dark painting that Berni had sold me from the canvas.

"Now what?" Ed asked looking up from his John Grisham.

I got up and went to the small bathroom. I came back with my hair dryer. Plugging it in, I dried the canvas briefly then took the pot of strong black tea I'd made earlier and poured it on the canvas, taking a brush to ensure that the tea didn't pool. I took one of the cigars I'd bought at the market lit it and burned it down to ashes, then smeared them on the surface, taking a toothbrush to scrub them into the canvas. The clean canvas I'd had a few minutes ago now looked old. I used the hair dryer to dry the canvas again. Ten minutes later, I turned off the dryer and put everything away, keeping the canvas on the balcony.

"And the next step is?"

"Letting this dry overnight to get rid of the tea and cigar smell and getting some pollen on it."

'And this is what professional conservators do in repairing canvases?"

"No, this is the first step in creating a forgery. Tomorrow, I'll show you things that if I actually did them, you'd have to arrest me."

Ed looked at his watch. "We should get some dinner and we need to make some phone calls".

"You call your mom first, and then we'll call Eve and John."

"I better include Jerry. He wouldn't be happy if he found out from John."

I agreed. Jerry Abbey was Ed's Sergeant. Ed had taken a chance on him when we were in Denver solving the murder of John Bell. Jerry had turned into a good officer, justifying Ed's trust.

He dialed. "Hi Ma, yeah, it's me. Have something to tell you. Are you sitting down? Good. Fran and I are getting married. Yes, I know it's about time. That seems to be what everyone is saying." Ed listened as his mother spoke. He told her the date and place then handed the phone over to me.

"Hello Sarah. Yes, you were right about Brown men being tenacious. All it took was him falling off a mountain to do it. I think we're both serious this time." I wasn't ready for what Sarah had to say next.

I mumbled a goodbye, ended the call, and wordlessly handed the phone back to Ed.

"What happened Fran?"

"She said I should call her 'mom'".

Ed's face registered the enormity of the gift given me. Sarah knew I hadn't called anyone that since I was fifteen. He held me for a while until I was calmer.

"Ready for the next call?"

I smiled, took a tissue, and dabbed my eyes. "Let's proceed"

Howard and Marion Whitfield were the next to receive our news. Both were ecstatic to hear the news, Marion volunteering to help however she could, including hosting the dinner the night before. "You know Bonita will be upset if she can't do something for you and Ed for the wedding and Fong, he won't say anything, but you know how he feels about you." I asked her to put Bonita on the phone. She became overwhelmed when I asked if she would sing. Ed followed with a short phone call to Sgt. Abbey. Jerry assured his boss he would not tell anyone in the department except Ed's secretary, Mattie Johnson.

"You know he or Mattie will tell someone".

"Be interesting as to how long those two can keep a secret."

While Ed called Mac, I went out to the balcony and called Eve.

"Been awhile since you've called me." Eve laughed.

"It's been busy."

"How's Ed feeling?"

"Better each day. He should be climbing mountains again pretty soon." I said unthinkingly.

"So, when is the big day? I hope before you go back to school."

"What are you talking about?" I suddenly realized that someone had been talking to her.

"Diana called me early this morning. She couldn't wait to tell me we were planning a wedding. And the proposal girl! In a hospital bed, no less"

I laughed. "Knew she couldn't keep this one secret."

"You're finally calling to let me know Ed fell off a mountain and he asked you to come and he proposed and in a moment of weakness you accepted."

I told her what happened that night in the hospital and today when he gave me the ring.

"You two have become incurable romantics."

"I guess so."

"What do you need from me?" She asked.

"I want, no, I need you to be my matron of honor." I heard Eve pause at the other end. The silence grew. "Damnit Eve, give me an answer." I said, the frustration showing in my voice.

Then she laughed. I knew what her answer would be. "Oh, I knew this day was coming. You don't know how hard it was not to butt in on you two and tell you repeatedly get over it and get married."

It was something I had appreciated about Eve. I considered her to be a sister. She had butted in and told me how to live my life when I needed someone to, which led me to Ed among other things, but she had spoken just a few times about our relationship or rather our lack of one. It must have been hard on her, since she loved both of us. I could hear the joy in her voice.

"John's on the phone with Ed. I 'spect Ed is asking him to do something for him as well."

"I 'spect you're right. So, will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Eve!" I said exasperatedly.

"Didn't I say yes? Of course, I will." She broke into laughter.

We spoke a bit longer. I promised to send her a picture of the ring. We agreed that she should come over for a short visit soon, maybe with Diana and we could go shopping.

"Not London or Vienna. We're shopping in Paris. We're having a splurge. Haute Couture, lunch at the top of the Eiffel, the Left Bank, Hotel George V; a bachelorette party on the Champs- Elysees, clubbing all night, just you, Diana, and me; my treat."

I told Eve I needed nothing that extravagant. It was too expensive.

"Look Fran, I've been waiting for a long time to throw a bachelorette party for you. You and Diana, you're the sisters I never had. You feel about us the same way. Please, let's have some fun, ok? One weekend. We'll never be able to do something like this again, because, well, you're the last to marry." She paused. "John and I got married last week. We both decided neither one of us needed anything fancy, so we met at City Hall during lunch and did it. Suzanne and Craig, that's John's oldest, were our witnesses. We had a long lovely weekend in San Francisco as a honeymoon."

I congratulated her and capitulated to the bachelorette party. We set a date and she hung up. Ed came out on the balcony smiling. John had agreed.

Later that night, I lay in Ed's arms feeling safe and loved. It was going to be a while before I'd feel that safe again.


End file.
